Original Sinn
by Aki-Hoshi
Summary: Harry and Draco had a mission. It was simple. Find out who stole the artefact, and get it back from the Muggle fencing it. Not as simple as it sounds, when you both hate each other with a passion, and the Muggle starts falling for your straight partner.
1. Chapter One: Pride

**WRITTEN FOR THE TWO BROOMSTICKS FALL FIC-A-THON **

**Summary: **Harry and Draco had a mission. It was simple. Find out who stole the artefact, and get it back from the Muggle fencing it. Not as simple as it sounds, when you both hate each other with a passion, and the Muggle starts falling for your straight partner, who you need to help handle the Muggle Gay Scene. And what happens when you start falling for him too?

**Warnings: **Some swearing, and fairly graphic sex (posted off-site). There will be pre-chapter warnings when the time arises. Post-HPB. Multi-chapter…around seven or so.

**Prompt: **_HP/DM. "Everything is working out according to the plan and that IS the effing problem!!" Post-war. Harry and Draco are Aurors/cops and have to work on a mission together. Part of said mission consists in catching some bad guy to get something from him. In order to do so, it is decided that Harry would seduce him and gain his trust. The guy starts falling for Harry, but he's not the only one... Draco does too. How will he deal with the newfound attraction?_

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, and all associated characters from the Harry Potter universe are the property of J.K. Rowling and those to whom she has licensed her creations, including without limitation Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No copyright infringement is intended. The author of this fic and the website maintainers are making no profit from this story or any of the site's contents.

**A/N:** The names of the chapters _are_ of the Seven Deadly Sins, but the chapters themselves are loosely based on these. They all contain a bit of all of them. I can't thank my readers enough for being so patient with me while I wrote this story instead of the one I probably _should_ be working on. I also can't give **Michelle** enough kudos for being such a quick and helpful beta. And I dedicate this to **Erin.** My muse, my beta, my friend.

* * *

**Chapter I - Pride**

* * *

"You're joking, right, McGuire?" 

"I'm afraid not, Harry. I do wish it could be another way, but he's the only one available. Besides, his…preferences might come in handy," Harry's superior in the Auror offices, Patterson McGuire, informed him, giving Harry a sympathetic but stern look.

Harry closed his eyes as if in pain, his brow furrowing. "But Patt, _please_, you know how well we _don't_ get on. We never have. This assignment's going to be a disaster if you put the two of us together for however long it'll take to get this artefact back."

Patterson, who was nary five years Harry's senior cast a fatherly look at his most accomplished Auror. He'd been working with Harry for almost four years now, and while Harry was certainly not a teenager anymore, and he was more than capable in the field, Patterson still felt as if he had to conduct parts of his office as if he were watching a playpen full of five-year olds.

"Harry, don't you think it's time to move past your history with him?"

Harry sighed heavily, and tilted his head back in the armchair he was sitting in. "Well, yes, I do. But it's not anything specific, Patt. Really. We just rub each other the wrong way. I accept him now; as one of us. I get it, and I believe him. After sixth year…" Harry waved a hand in a lazy, all-encompassing motion, "I've seen him differently. But still…that doesn't change the fact that's he's an overbearing, pompous, self-absorbed, poncy git."

"How am _I_ pompous and self-absorbed, Potter? I'm not the one that struts around this office, claiming even _more_ spectacular feats everyday. I just do my job; you get _favours_."

Harry stood and spun around quickly. "Do I need to remind you of how many times I've nearly _died_, Malfoy? And I noticed that you didn't refute the allegations that you're overbearing and poncy," he added with a curling of his lip.

Draco Malfoy stood in Patterson's doorway and sneered. He opened his mouth to reply but Patterson cut him off.

"Gentlemen, stop. Sit down. I still need to give you both the particulars."

With hard glares at each other, Draco moved forward and took the second armchair, while Harry resumed his seat, crossing his arms quite petulantly.

Patterson huffed and shut his door firmly with a swish of his wand. "You two are like bloody children."

Harry's glare softened slightly, and he relaxed into a professional demeanour, sitting up straighter to better pay attention to McGuire. Malfoy's slouch also straightened, and both men listened intently as their boss laid out their newest assignment.

"Okay guys, here's the deal. Someone, most definitely from the inside, has stolen a _very_ sensitive artefact from the Department of Mysteries. Unfortunately, we don't know who. However, we know that a Muggle by the name of Sameson James that has been fencing the artefact; but has been unable to fetch a price for it. We don't know how this artefact got into his possession, nor do we know if he knows what it truly does. I need you two to interrogate this guy without suspicion. And we need to know who gave it to him; we most likely have a mole, and rather than start interrogating the whole department, we'd rather lay low and see if we can't catch this guy before he takes off and goes into hiding and we can't track him. Catch him off-guard in other words."

"What's the artefact?" Malfoy asked. "I'm assuming we need to get the artefact back if it's this sensitive an object."

McGuire nodded his assent. "Yes, you need to get the artefact back as well. To avoid alerting the perpetrator, I have no documentation on the object. But the verbal description is this: a small spherical object made of mixed metals and gems. Changes colour constantly."

"That's it?" Harry asked. "That's all we have to go on?"

"Yes. But you guys will know it when you see it. It apparently has more magical energy than most wizards." Patterson leaned forward. "I can't stress how important and sensitive this object is. You _must_ get it back."

"What does it do?"

Patterson seemed to measure his words before replying: "With the right commands, it steals the Earth's natural magic and makes a Muggle a magical being."

There was a heavy silence for a moment, until Malfoy blurted out, "It turns _Muggles_ into _Wizards_?"

"That is correct. And vice versa if a Wizard has a nasty vendetta against you."

"Jesus…" Harry breathed.

"Your Muggle God won't save you on this one, Potter."

"I'm not religious, Malfoy. It's a fucking expression."

"Whatever."

"You mentioned Malfoy's…_preferences_, Patterson," Harry said with a dubious glare in the blonde's direction.

"Do you have a _problem_ with my 'preferences', Potter?" Malfoy asked with a sneer.

"_No,_" he replied. "I'm just wondering what it has to do with this particular case."

"The Muggle, James, was seen walking into a gay bar by the same person he tried to fence the artefact to."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Was this person Mundungus Fletcher?"

Patterson smirked. "Indeed. Thankfully, Mundungus knew we were looking to find out who gave it to him, and rather than buy it, he followed him. He actually approached James about any goods he had, just to make sure he still had it. Anyhow, Mr. Malfoy's take on things might come in useful. There might be an in there."

"We'll see," Harry muttered, which earned him a glare.

"I don't want to be in the situation any more than you, Potter, so shove it."

"Stop being such a pansy."

"Boys!" Patterson barked. When both men sat back and weren't glaring at one another, Patterson continued. "I expect you _both_ to work _together_ on this one, regardless of your animosities. I mean it. You two are in the top five, and I can't have this assignment botched, do you understand?" He waited until they both nodded their understanding. "The balance of the Earth's magic rests on this. You'll find folders with the details of his whereabouts on your desks. You are dismissed. Good day."

"Good day, Patt," said Harry.

"Goodbye, sir," Malfoy murmured.

Both men left the office, shutting the door behind them.

"I hate you, Potter."

"Likewise, Malfoy."

"I'll see you tomorrow morning. Early," Malfoy said as he walked towards his desk.

Harry rolled his eyes. "At your _command_, Master Malfoy." And then he worked his way to his own desk on the other side of the office.

* * *

Today was not a good day for Harry Potter. 

In fact, he was pretty sure that because he _was_ Harry Potter, he was meant to have a bad day. Perhaps if he had been someone else, he could have had a normal day. Even a good one.

But fate had landed him here, stuck in a Muggle hotel room with Draco Malfoy, the person most likely to annoy him for all eternity.

"Potter, this is my bed, you got it? I don't want you touching my things."

"Jesus Christ, Malfoy. Get a grip. I don't _want_ to touch your things."

"And I get the first shower. Every morning."

"Whatever."

"You don't snore, do you?" Malfoy eyed Harry suspiciously, as if he'd fall into a snoring comatose any second.

"No. Do you?"

Malfoy scoffed. "Of course not. I am quite a bit more dignified than you. Malfoy's don't snore."

"I doubt that."

"Shut up, Potter."

"I will if you will, Malfoy."

"I told you to first."

Oh, this was going to be a _long_ couple of weeks.

* * *

"There's our guy." 

"How do you know?"

"I just do, Potter, stop arguing with me."

Harry sighed, and gazed back through his omnioculars to Sameson James, a man not much older than he, dressed in a thick black jacket and dark blue jeans. He had dark hair that was falling in his eyes but cropped close in the back, and a nose that was almost as sharp and pointy as Malfoy's, with a chin to match. In fact, if it wasn't for the fact that the man's eyes were practically black, Harry would have thought he was staring at an older Malfoy, with dyed hair.

"He looks like you," Harry muttered unconsciously.

"What?" Malfoy snapped. "Are you comparing me to a _Muggle_, Potter?"

Harry shrugged. "Not really. You just have the same kind of poke-your-eyes-out kind of face."

"Fuck you, Potter," Malfoy spat, standing from his crouch on the roof next to Harry and walking back to the propped open roof access door, only to let it fall completely shut behind him.

Harry sighed again, and turned back to watching their man. He was talking on a mobile, standing in front of a flower shop on the corner, and generally glaring at everything around him. He didn't seem to be carrying anything spherical, Harry thought, but then again, Harry still didn't know how big this thing was. "Small" could mean that it was the size of a pin-head or it could mean it wasn't so big you couldn't pick it up. Harry watched as Sameson pulled a pack of fags out of his inside jacket pocket and lit one, pulling in a long drag before barking something to whoever he was talking to and snapping his mobile closed.

He seemed like a lovely chap.

Harry put his omnioculars away and left the roof, smirking at Malfoy's obvious but sorry attempt to keep him up on the roof. It probably had more to do with the symbolism of locking him up there rather than actually doing it, Harry mused as he charmed the door unlocked and went down the stairs in search for his…ugh, _partner._

* * *

"I think we should go." 

"We? Why we?"

"Well, why are there two of us at all, Potter? Because I certainly have no problems with trying to navigate the Muggle Gay Scene. But poor, innocent, _straight_ you…yes, _you_ might be gobbled up by some bear with a bondage fetish. That's what you're afraid of, isn't it?"

"It is not!" Harry exclaimed quickly.

"Ah…so quick to answer…. I'd rather like to think you are."

"Oh, shove off, Malfoy."

Malfoy sat down on his own bed, across from Harry. They had been staking out their man for two days, and had used some Extendable Ears to find out that he was going to a club called "Original Sinn" that evening, and Malfoy was now trying to talk Harry into going.

"Look, Potter. The reason there's two of us is in case something goes wrong. We don't know what this guy might be capable of, and I'd prefer some back-up in case he thinks he can just pick me up and walk all over me."

"Wow, Malfoy, asking for help? For Merlin sakes, you're a wizard; you can defend yourself."

"Not from bullets, Potter."

That made Harry pause for a moment. "Okay. Fine. But I'm not dressing up all…" he made a vague gesture which Malfoy took to mean "flamboyant".

"Fine then. You can come as my straight friend who has nothing better to do on a Friday night but hang out with the gay boys at the gay clubs. Or, you can be the awkward twink in the corner who's just come out." Harry watched as Malfoy stood and moved towards his chest of drawers and started pulling out garments and inspecting them.

"Being your 'friend' will have to suffice, I guess."

"Hm."

"Hey Malfoy?" Harry asked as the blond moved to the bathroom.

"What?"

"How is it you know so much about Muggle gay culture? I thought you hated Muggles."

"I do, Potter. But if I want a nameless and easy fuck, it's better to find a Muggle. They're gullible and stupid. Not to mention that there really isn't a gay scene in the Wizarding World at all."

"Oh." Pause. "Hey Malfoy?"

"What is it, Potter?"

"If you hate Muggles, why do you have sex with them?"

A long suffering sigh. "Because, Potter, they're easy, and not all of them are horrible looking or bad in bed."

"Are there any wizards you haven't slept with yet?"

Malfoy poked his head out of the door. "Potter, are you dim, stupid, or just so full of yourself you can't see what's around you?"

"Er…"

"There _isn't_ a gay Wizarding scene. Being gay isn't accepted there. And thank Merlin my father and mother are dead, because he'd have killed me, and her broken heart would have killed her. Now, are you finished with your asinine questions, so I can get ready?"

"Er, yeah. Go ahead."

Harry sat there and mused on the information that Malfoy had given him. It seemed rather odd that Malfoy would talk about his parents at all; especially to Harry, but now Harry knew why Malfoy seemed to know so much about the gay Muggle scene.

What seemed like hours later, Malfoy finally came out of the bathroom, a creamy hotel towel around his waist and another wrapped around his head. Harry cocked an eyebrow at him, thinking that the blond hadn't much more hair than him, and that he hardly needed to put his hair up like a girl.

"Your turn, Potter. Don't take too long. I still need to do my hair and set up our comm spell."

"Comm spell?"

"Yeah. The spell I created that allows us to communicate without the use of those Muggle contraptions that go in our ears."

"You mean, the _standard_ comm spell? You created that?"

"Yes, of course. Now stop wasting time. Go clean yourself."

Harry huffed. "It's not like I'm _dirty._"

"You might as well be. I'm going through your stuff to find you something to wear," Malfoy called as Harry shut the door. The brunet opened the door back up and asked flatly,

"What."

"I'm going to _try_ and find something suitable for you to wear tonight," Malfoy said with a tone that said that it most likely that Harry would have to go naked, for nothing the man would own would _ever_ be up to Malfoy's standards.

Harry's eyes flicked down to the silvery scar marring Malfoy's chest. "Fine," he bit out. "Just…don't throw anything away."

"I'll try my hardest not to touch your undies, Potter, don't worry."

With one final glare, Harry went back into the bathroom and emerged fifteen minutes later to a disaster area of clothes.

"Malfoy, what-"

"Don't move, Potter! You're about to upset my sorting!"

"Your—_what_?"

"My sorted piles. You're practically standing on 'Completely and Utterly Disgusting'."

"And that pile over there?" Harry asked, pointing to a heap on his bed with the hand that wasn't holding up his dirty clothes along with the towel around his waist.

"Not Suitable Even for Disposal."

"Jesus, Malfoy. You are a Complete and Utter Prat."

"Ha, Potter." Malfoy, who was still dressed in only a towel, gestured to the piles around the room. "I think I may need to pick something and modify it. Easier than conjuring at any rate." He picked at a grey t-shirt of Harry's. "I think…something with a collar…and a bit shinier…" as he said the words, he waved his wand over the garment and the shirt gained a collar and a silver sheen. "Oh, and I can't forget the buttons," and shiny buttons appeared along the front and it split down the middle.

"Here," Malfoy said, thrusting the now improved shirt in Harry's direction, "Put this on. Wear that black t-shirt under it, with those black jeans I put on your pillow, and…this belt." Malfoy tossed a black belt with a silver Union Jack buckle at Harry, who caught it, but wound up dropping the clothes he was trying to keep a hold of. "Be careful with that belt, Potter. It's mine, and I am only letting you borrow it because your wardrobe is ridiculously pathetic."

"Yes, Malfoy," Harry replied with a condescending tone.

Malfoy grabbed a few garments of his own and disappeared into the bathroom, emerging fifteen minutes later with his hair dried, and wearing what could only be described in Harry's mind as "_whoa_".

Malfoy had on black jeans, similar to Harry's own – a little baggy but straight legged – and a tight, sleeveless black shirt, that shimmered blue when he turned in the light. His hair was loose in his eyes, and swung above his ears, accenting his grey eyes and his sharp eyebrows. He had on no belt, and it was easy to see that he had on no underwear either.

"Whoa, Malfoy," Harry said, reflecting his thoughts. "I don't think I've ever seen you in anything but baggy robes…"

"Yes, Potter, I'm hot. I know this. Stop ogling me."

Harry frowned. "Just trying to pay a compliment…"

Malfoy remained silent.

"Malfoy, are you ready to go?"

Malfoy turned and glared, then pointed his wand at Harry's head and whispered the spell to activate the two-way comm, before connecting the spell back to himself.

"You've seen me in Muggles clothes before, Potter," Malfoy said as he grabbed a leather jacket and made for the door.

"Well, yeah, but only these past few days. And you've been wearing slacks and dress shirts. Hardly close to what you're wearing now."

"I expect to turn some heads tonight, Potter. Let's go."

Harry grabbed his own jacket, and they left their hotel room and caught a cab to the club.

When they got there, there was an obvious line to get in. The neon blue sign stating "Original Sinn" was shining dull light over everyone, turning their skin an icy shade. Malfoy got out the cab, waited for Harry to pay the fare, then marched right past the line and to the large black bouncer at the front.

"Evening," he said, with all the air of someone who was used to getting what he wanted. Which, he probably was.

The bouncer looked at him and said in a deep baritone, "Can I help you?"

"Yes," Malfoy said, and he shifted his arm. "We'd like to be let in. Now."

The large man looked as though he was about to protest, but then he blinked and said, "Yes, sirs. Please, go ahead."

Malfoy smiled charmingly, and Harry followed behind, looking shocked.

"You used _Imperius_ on him!" Harry whispered hotly as they shoved their way inside amongst angry shouts from the line behind them.

"Anything to get the job done, Potter. If I hadn't, we'd've been outside for hours, and probably would have missed our man."

"Who says he's already in here?" Harry yelled over the thumping music.

"Because he's sitting at the bar. Just over there." And Malfoy pointed as he checked his jacket in. Harry followed suit, and looked over to where James was sitting.

He was dressed in all black – as always, it seemed over the past few days – and was at the bar, nursing a beer. He didn't seem to be paying any attention to the people around him. Which, also seemed to be the usual.

Harry and Malfoy stood at the top of a short set of stairs, leading down into the dance floor. Straight next to them, the bar stretched out, circling half the dance floor, with the same three steps leading down. Far in the back, on the opposite side, Harry saw booths and small tables filled with people, laughing, and drinking, and watching the dancers. The place was dark, but there were splashes of coloured light moving all over the walls and ceiling, and the same neon blue from outside was lighting the steps.

Harry looked around the club, and it was full to the brim already with people of all kinds. Mainly scantily clad young men, writhing around and up against each other; and a few men in tasteful drag, talking up the lesbians and the pretty boys hanging around them. The rest were lurkers, Harry thought, dark people hiding in the shadows, watching the happenings with detached or lustful eyes, and Harry avoided looking at them for too long.

Malfoy cocked his head towards the back of the club. "Go catch us a table. I'm going to get drinks." And he sauntered off towards the bar."

"Malfoy! Wait, Malfoy! Are you going to talk to him? Hey Malfoy!" But Malfoy kept walking as if he didn't hear him. "Do you even know what I like to drink?" Harry yelled, huffing. Glaring at the blonde's back, he stepped down into the dancing area, manoeuvring around the edge to the tables in the back. Luckily (very, it seemed), there was a tall pub table with two chairs waiting to be occupied, with a few left over drinks abandoned for the dance floor. Harry pushed the glasses to one side, and sat down, leaning on the table and trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.

Now that Harry was sitting down and no longer trying to follow Malfoy, he noticed just how uncomfortable he was. Harry didn't know anyone who was gay besides Malfoy, and hadn't the slightest idea of how to act in a gay bar, or around so many gay people. A few of which were eyeing him as if he were fresh meat. There was a particularly ugly-looking bloke, who was obviously a lurker, an older guy, who, by Harry's guess, probably got his jollies by watching the young and beautiful gyrate on the floor, all sweaty and slick. The thought of being watched by him made Harry shudder in revulsion.

Harry couldn't see over the crowd of people dancing, so he was a little surprised when Draco suddenly plopped down next to him with a beer and a Cosmopolitan. He placed the beer in front of Harry, and took a gulp of his Cosmo.

"Aren't those expensive, froo-froo, fairy drinks?" Harry asked, taking a swig of his off-brand beer, wincing at the bitter taste. He wasn't the biggest fan of beer, but this beer really was quite terrible. He'd prefer a nice, smooth, honeyed mead.

"Potter, have you forgotten that I _am_ an expensive, froo-froo fairy?"

"I just expected you to be more of a hard liquor kind of guy."

"I am. I just felt like a froo-froo drink tonight, alright? Just shut up, Potter. You're more useful when you're quiet and you do what I tell you to."

"I'm not just someone you can walk all over, Malfoy."

"Finish your beer, Potter. Then we're going to dance."

"Excuse me?"

Malfoy gulped down the other half of his drink. "We need to get closer to our man. He isn't moving."

"Did you talk to him?"

"No. Tonight I'm just going to observe. See what he drinks, what kinds of guys go up to him, and which one's he responds to. What he's into."

"And I have to go with you why?"

"Because I need you to keep the stalkers at bay."

"The what?"

"The stalkers. The guys who follow you around and try and dance with you regardless of your protests. _You_, are going to dance with _me_, and inadvertently fend off the 'stalkers'."

"Dance? Are you crazy? Malfoy, I am _not_ dancing with you."

"Oh, piffle, Potter. You _are_ dancing with me. So deal with it." He grabbed Harry's wrist and pulled him off the stool. "But tell me. You _can_ dance, can't you? I do remember that you were absolutely atrocious in fourth year at the Yule Ball."

Harry tried to yank his hand away and wound up grabbing onto Malfoy's wrist so as not to get torn away from him as they squeezed through all the people dancing. "Malfoy! Wait! I'm not – I can't-"

Malfoy pulled hard on Harry's wrist, swinging him around until he was in front of the blond, and then wrapped his arms around Harry's neck. Harry jerked away, saying, "Malfoy, it's called personal space."

"I don't want to hear it, Potter. Just grab onto my waist and let me lead."

"We're not ballroom dancing, Malfoy."

"No. We're not." Malfoy said, then leaned forward and put his head next to Harry's. "I'm not going to get hard over you, Potter. Now, turn."

"What?"

"_Turn,_ Potter." And Malfoy pushed his elbow against Harry's shoulder to get him to turn so Malfoy could look over his shoulder.

Harry as good as growled in Malfoy's ear and tentatively put his hands on Malfoy's hips. "You're taller than me, you know. This looks odd."

"Fine. You wanna be the girl? Here," Then Malfoy shoved his arms underneath Harry's and pushed them up to his shoulders, then wrapped his arms around Harry's waist.

"Ack! Malfoy! That wasn't what I meant!" Harry exclaimed as Malfoy moved them with the rhythm of the song's fast beat.

"Look, Potter, I'm trying to watch our guy while pretending to _not_ look like I'm watching him. So just shut up and do as I tell you. Or, you can go back to the hotel."

Harry glared up at the annoying blond prat. "I think I will." Then Harry pulled himself out of Malfoy's arms and left the club, getting his jacket on the way out.

* * *

Once outside in the fresh air, Harry was immediately overcome with a sense of nausea, and ducked into the closest alley, leaning against the dank wall to steady himself. Taking deep lungfuls of air, he pushed the nausea down and tried not to scream in frustration. 

What was wrong with him? Why was he letting the situation get to him? And _why_ oh _why_ was he letting Malfoy of all people push him around?

He thought about the club – all the men looking at him, and the way Malfoy just _assumed _that he'd be okay being there, dancing with him – he was _straight_, and he didn't know that many gay people, and he'd never been around that many…

The nausea took over and Harry found himself being sick behind the closest dumpster.

Wiping his chin, he Apparated back to the hotel room, intent on washing every uncomfortable thing away with a hot shower.

* * *

"_**Potter. Hey, Potter. Are you still on comm? You'd better be listening, because I'm only going to say this once."**_

Harry jumped when Malfoy's voice spoke calmly into his ear as he was rinsing the shampoo out of his hair in the shower a few minutes later.

"_**Well, fine. I realise you probably don't want to talk. I'm not the talking sort myself. But, well, I apologise. For dragging you into a situation you probably weren't very keen on being in." **_

Harry took a deep breath as he listened, standing idle under the hot spray.

"_**I…I remember coming out to my friends just after the war. I thought maybe that I would marry Pansy Parkinson. Do you remember her? But something happened. Something changed. I won't tell you what. But I had to tell people. That was uncomfortable. And I'm sure you know I don't like being uncomfortable. I tend to lash out. So. I'm sorry for making you feel anywhere near as uncomfortable as I had to be when I realised I was gay."**_

Biting his lip, Harry reached for his conditioner.

"_**There. Don't expect me to like you any greater than I already don't. And don't mention this conversation to me. Unless I start it. I'll see you later."**_

There was a little 'pop', and Harry heard Malfoy end the comm spell from his side. Harry wondered why Malfoy was still at the club at all, because he could hear the thump of the music in the background. _Probably found some "twink", as he put it, to de-virginize then leave memory-less. Bloody, blond bastard._

* * *

Harry was lying in bed trying unsuccessfully to sleep when the key-card to the room clicked and the door opened quietly, and then there was a bright sliver of light before it shut just as quietly. 

Harry lay there, stiff as a board, breathing shallowly as he listened to Malfoy stripping off his clothes and going into the bathroom to take a shower.

Much later, Malfoy emerged, steam billowing into the room, before the light went off and Harry heard Malfoy crawl into the bed next to him.

"Thank you," he whispered.

He heard Malfoy pause in his shifting. "You're welcome, Potter."

Harry finally closed his eyes, feeling that resisting sleep finally come to him.

"But I told you not to bring it up."

Harry chuckled under his breath. "Goodnight, Malfoy."

"Yeah. 'Night, Potter."

* * *

"_I'm going to Sinn again. Yeah, tonight. And no, I haven't fetched a price. I'll get one, I swear. People are just wary, you know? They don't know what it is, and they don't really believe me. Yes, I had to tell them. Look, I'm putting my rep on the line, here! If you want out of whatever the hell you want to call yourself, and you want the _real_ money to do it, then you have to go through me, and we're doing it _my_ way. Got it?"_

Sameson James flipped his mobile closed and shoved it in his pocket. It was two days later on a Saturday night and he was sitting in Ed's Easy American-themed diner in Soho, a few booths away from the Auror pair, waiting for a burger with cheesy fries and sipping on a thick strawberry shake.

Draco sipped on his own chocolate shake and nodded past Potter's shoulder to James. "You heard that, right? He's going to Sinn again. Should I fly solo?"

Potter finished off his burger. "No. I'll – I'll go. Just…let me actually _be_ the straight friend this time, okay? No leaving me to fend for myself, and _no_ dancing."

"Yes, Potter. I'll keep your sorry little _straight_ virginity intact."

Potter glared. "Why must you be such an ass, Malfoy?"

Draco smiled around the chocolaty goodness in his mouth. "You like me being an ass."

"I'm used to you being an ass." He finished off his coke and grabbed the ticket. "Let's go. I'll pay."

"I'll not have you paying my bills, Potter."

"You can spot me for drinks tonight. And get me a better beer this time. Or better yet, one of your expensive, froo-froo, fairy drinks."

"Ha, ha. You are your own brand of fairy, you know that?"

"Shove off, Malfoy."

"I do wish I could, Potter. I _really_ wish I could."

"Me too, Malfoy."

* * *

Draco checked himself in the full-length mirror on the bathroom door. Yep, he looked _hot._ Hot enough to snag the dark-haired, black-wearing _psychopath_ that he and Potter were tracking. So hot that Harry-Fucking-Potter was ogling him again when he stepped out of the bathroom. 

"Tongue in your mouth, Potter. You're drooling."

Potter's mouth snapped shut. "Whatever, Malfoy. You wish I was looking at you."

"Are we back to twelve-year-old comebacks? Because I can pull one out, if your tiny brain requires it."

"Really, Malfoy. Shut up. You think after almost a week we could get along just a _bit_ better. I mean, the other night, you were actually _apologising_ to me. I was shocked. I was also naked. In the shower. And no, that doesn't give you the right to have mental pictures."

"Ooh, _much_ better comeback, Potter. And thanks for the warning. I really didn't want the mental images anyway. And I told you not to mention that. Ever. So don't."

"Right-o Captain." Potter saluted him in mockery.

"I am not one of the Village People, Potter. Get over it."

"Ha. Let's go."

"Not so fast. Let me check your outfit."

Potter rolled his eyes and stood there, waiting for the 'okay' from Draco. He was wearing an ensemble similar to his last, but with a matte black over shirt and a green under. His belt was changed out for a simple black leather, and his hair actually managed some semblance to "sexily tousled"; assuming Potter had ever lost his cherry.

Draco nodded his approval. "Alright. You look the same as you did last time. But that's fine. You're not going to impress anybody. Ready for comm?"

With another roll of his eyes, Potter nodded. "Yeah, sure. I'm just going to watch from the background, alright? Just don't…go into the bathroom with him or whatever."

"Hey – that might be _his_ thing, not mine. I might not even be able to get an in here, okay? I may have to switch tracks and pose as a buyer real quick. Though I'd rather do that and just catch the loser before I have to shag him to get the information, but nothing's ever easy, is it?"

"Certainly not this assignment."

"But look at it this way, Potter. At least you won't almost die," Draco said with a sweet smile as he pointed his wand at Harry's head.

"Oh, yes. Dodge death for the millionth time or go to gay clubs with you. Wonderful choice in options."

"You have gotten much too cocky in your old age, Potter."

"Old? You're almost two months older than me. What does that make you?"

"Just shut up."

* * *

The club was thumbing and much more crowded than Thursday night, and Harry felt obligated to turn his head when Malfoy charmed the bouncer again. He was surprised that the blond didn't just use _Veritaserum_ on James to get him to talk. It wouldn't be hard to slip it into a drink when he wasn't looking. _Probably wanted to get laid by whoever he could_, thought Harry. 

They found James sitting at the bar again, on the far side near the other tables and booths. Harry made Malfoy pay for his beer before snagging a short table at the edge of the crowd, so he could watch Malfoy's progress. Malfoy circled through the bar, making his way down to their man. When he reached him, he got a strange, predatory look in his eye, and to Harry, it definitely looked strange.

_At least now I know what he looks like in case he ever starts cruising me._

"**_Hi. Can I buy you another beer?"_** Harry heard Malfoy say through the comm spell, as he leaned on the bar next to James.

"**_You could, but it won't do you much good."_**

"_**Oh? Do you have a boyfriend or something?"**_

"_**No, but you're not my type."**_

"_**How do you know that? I could be the man of your dreams. Your soulmate even."**_

_Oh, Malfoy, don't make me gag. Soulmate? Please._

"_**No, I really don't think so. I don't like blonds."**_

_Ouch._

"Would you like to dance?"

"Huh?"

Harry looked up to see a rather charming _topless_ boy standing in front of him holding out his hand.

"Oh, er…no thanks. I'm straight."

The boy looked at him with quite a bit of confusion. "Then why are you in a gay bar?"

"My friend. He's gay. He went to go get himself a drink."

"Really? Because I saw you sit down, and you've been all alone this whole time. This your first time coming here?"

"No! I mean…He's taken me here before. Really. He's at the bar. I think he got lost. He's that blond, right over there." Harry pointed out Malfoy, who, if he caught the last bit of conversation correctly, was trying unsuccessfully to get James to dance with him. Ugh. "He's a horrible flirter," Harry said, thinking he was probably telling the truth. "I think he brings me here to torture me and turn me gay or something." Well, _that_ was definitely telling the truth.

The boy shrugged. "Well, I'm sorry to hear you're not one of us. You're awfully cute." He put his arms on the table and leaned in close. "Especially with those bookish glasses." He cocked his head in an endearing way then straightened. "If you change your mind…I'll be right over there." And he nodded towards a table on the other side of the dance floor.

"Er…yeah. I will. I mean, if I do." _Holy crap! I was just hit on by a boy! I'm definitely _not_ telling Malfoy. He'll never let me live it down._

"**_Are you sure I can't die my hair and change your mind?" _**Harry heard Malfoy say once he'd tuned back in.

James chuckled. **_"No, I'm sure. Besides, you look good as a blond. You're just not my type."_**

"**_Well, you can't say I didn't try. And don't worry, you can keep the beer."_** Harry glanced over and saw Draco leave James with a smile, heading in the opposite direction towards the front of the club.

"**_Potter." _**Harry heard in his ear. **_"Meet me in the loo in two minutes. I need to talk to you."_**

"_You're talking to me now, Malfoy."_ Harry whispered, taking a swig of his beer to cover it up.

"_**In person. Now."**_

"_I'm not going into the loo with you."_

"_**I'm not playing, Potter. You missed something. Don't think I didn't hear your own little exchange with that topless twink."**_

_Damn._

"_Okay. Fine. I'll be there in a minute."_

Harry stood and made his way to the toilet, shoving past people, and passing his topless encounter standing next to a booth full of other topless twinks, and felt the boy's eyes follow him all the way to the loo.

Nervously, he dodged two men coming out and slipped inside, his stomach dropping as he heard a few sighs and heady moans coming from the stalls. Oh, he was going to be sick.

"_**I'm in the last stall."**_

Harry moved to the last stall in the row and knocked hesitantly on the door. It opened, and Harry saw Malfoy's face and gratefully ducked inside.

Malfoy waved his arm and provided an Imperturbable charm to their stall. No one would hear, and no one could get in.

"You have to do it, Potter."

"Excuse me? Do what?"

"Get in with James."

Harry stared at Malfoy. "You're crazy, you know that?"

"You didn't hear him, Potter. He likes brunets. He's going to recognise me if I die my hair. Besides the fact that I already asked if I should."

"You could use some glamour charms, Malfoy."

"No, Potter, I can't. You know as well as I do that glamour charms only work for so long, and they're dependent on the caster's strength and ability. I can't keep that many spells up that long, and you're crap at charms."

"I am not."

"Even so. If James already knows Wizards exists, it's not going to be that hard to for him to see through it. And Polyjuice only lasts an hour at a time. We both need to be alert. We can't be constantly using charms. They'll drain us and we need to focus on getting the information and the artefact back fast. I'll talk you through everything. Tell you what to say. What to do. I promise."

"Malfoy, I'm not going to play gay for you. We can use Muggle methods. We can get some hair dye, and maybe some prosthetics-"

"Potter, you're not listening to me. Do _you_ know how to use that stuff? Let's just do this my way, okay?"

"_No,_ Malfoy, I don't think you're listening to _me._ I can't do this. I _won't_. I. Am. Not. Gay. And I will not be gay, even for this case."

"Potter, please. It's just pretending. You…could be a prude. I'm not asking you to have sex with him. Just…I don't know, get to know him, be his friend. If he hits on you, let him kiss you. That's it. Do only what you feel comfortable with. That's a given, even for me."

Harry stared, or rather, glared at Malfoy. For a very long time.

"Potter, I don't mean to break this special eye-lock thing we've got going on here, but we're wasting time. We have to start this tonight."

Harry closed his eyes. "I really hate you."

"I'll help you with _everything._ I'll be in your ear the whole time."

"Oh, yes. That gives me _so_ much comfort."

"Oh, hush. Just think – you can catch all the glory for this one too."

"And go down as the man Draco Malfoy could make gay. Don't you ever think that maybe I don't _like_ getting the so-called glory for every case I'm on? Argh! You're just so infuriating."

Malfoy sighed. "But you'll do it?"

"Yes, fine! Let's just get this over with." Harry turned to leave the grungy stall.

"Wait a minute. We still have to cover your scar."

"Why? I thought you said no glamours?"

"I'll use a small one. One I can control so you don't have to. It'll be small enough that I can keep it up whenever you're in his company."

"Just do it."

* * *

Draco practically had to shove Potter out of the loo. He could see that his hands were sweating, and he was sure he was going to hyperventilate any second. 

"_**Breathe, Potter. Relax. You have to be at least semi-comfortable, here."**_

"_There's nothing comfortable about this, Malfoy."_

"_**Look, I gave you the money. When you get to him, sit down on the stool next to him, and offer to buy him a drink."**_

"_How do I do that?"_

"**_Did you listen to me earlier?" _**Draco sighed heavily as he made his way to a dark corner to watch, putting up an Imperturbable charm just so he wouldn't be bothered, but so he could still watch Potter and James. **_"Say, 'Hello, could I buy you a drink?' It's that simple. Strike up small talk like you would with any other guy. Find a common interest. Maybe that Muggle Football thing?"_**

"_Okay, okay. I gotcha. If you keep yakking in my ear, I might not be able to do this."_

"_**You wanted my help, Potter."**_

"_No, I think you wanted mine."_

"_**Whatever."**_

Draco watched Harry edge towards his target. Merlin, he was really nervous.

"_**Potter, wipe your hands on your jeans. You don't want to be all sweaty."**_

"_Shove off, Malfoy."_

"_**Again, helping here."**_

He heard Potter sigh, and then saw him approach his subject. He was lucky; as he walked up, two women left the bar with drinks, providing Potter with a perfect spot to sit down next to the unmoving man in black. Why was James even here?

Potter cleared his throat. _"Um…could I – could I buy you a drink?"_

James turned and looked over at Potter, who blushed, looked down at his fidgeting hands, and glanced back up. _Nice, Potter, if he likes the insecure type. Maybe I was too cocky. Possibly. Not really. Never._

"_You're the second guy tonight,"_ James replied.

"_Am I? Well…er…I'm sorry to bother you then…"_ Potter started to stand.

"**_Don't you _dare_ stand up, Potter, or I will publicly boil your blood with my favourite curse from the war," _**Draco whispered ferociously into Potter's ear.

But it seemed he needn't have worried. James stopped Potter with a hand on his arm.

"_No, it's okay. That guy wasn't my type."_

Potter blushed darker. _"Oh. And I am, I take it?"_

James smiled. _"Sameson James. What's your name?"_

"_Harry Potter."_

"_Well, Harry. Feel free to buy away. I tend to stay a while."_

"_How long is 'a while'?"_

James smiled. _"Until I find something I like."_

* * *

**A/N: **_So barring you 'Bet' fans don't hate me... Hi! I'm back from the dead. So, the rundown is this: I graduated, moved, putzed around, got a job, and didn't pass up a fic challenge (like I probalby should have). But don't fret! I've also just sent the newest chapter of 'The Bet' to my betas, and I will hopefully be posting it before I leave this weekend for a week-long Sabbatical to lovely Salem, MA. For Halloween, no less. :) This makes me very happy._

_For those new readers, welcome, and I hope you enjoy this new story as much as I had fun writing it. Updates should be once a week. I'm hoping my muse can keep up with me._

_I want to extend my sincerest gratitude to everyone who reads any of my fanfiction. Comments and consctructive critism is always welcome. I also bow down to the lovely Siren and Sansa, of Two Broomsticks. Without them, this fic would not have been possible._


	2. Chapter Two: Sloth

**WRITTEN FOR THE TWO BROOMSTICKS FALL FIC-A-THON****  
**

**Summary: **Harry and Draco had a mission. It was simple. Find out who stole the artefact, and get it back from the Muggle fencing it. Not as simple as it sounds, when you both hate each other with a passion, and the Muggle starts falling for your straight partner, who you need to help handle the Muggle Gay Scene. And what happens when you start falling for him too?

**Warnings: **Some swearing, and fairly graphic sex. There will be pre-chapter warnings when the time arises. Post-HPB, post-war. Multi-chapter…around seven or so.

**Prompt: **_HP/DM. "Everything is working out according to the plan and that IS the effing problem!!" Post-war. Harry and Draco are Aurors/cops and have to work on a mission together. Part of said mission consists in catching some bad guy to get something from him. In order to do so, it is decided that Harry would seduce him and gain his trust. The guy starts falling for Harry, but he's not the only one... Draco does too. How will he deal with the newfound attraction?_

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, and all associated characters from the Harry Potter universe are the property of J.K. Rowling and those to whom she has licensed her creations, including without limitation Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No copyright infringement is intended. The author of this fic and the website maintainers are making no profit from this story or any of the site's contents.

**A/N:** Here's chapter two of "Original Sinn". I hope you all enjoy it as much as the first chapter. Thanks so much for the support, and please review!**  
**

* * *

**Chapter Two – Sloth**

* * *

"What do you usually drink?" James asked Harry, finishing off the last of his beer.

"Um…I don't. Usually. But I do like a good honeyed mead. Something sweet, anyhow. I…didn't get a lot of sweets when I was a kid."

James raised an eyebrow. "Strict parents?"

Harry looked down at his still fidgeting hands. "More like aunt and uncle. It's a long story. My parents died when I was a baby. My aunt and uncle weren't very fond of being stuck with me."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"_**Yes, Potter. Go with the sob story."**_

Harry would have retorted if James wasn't sitting right next to him. Instead, he ordered James another beer, and one of those expensive, froo-froo, fairy Cosmos that Malfoy ordered the night before.

"I wouldn't have taken you as a vodka, triple sec, cranberry and lime kind of guy, Harry."

Harry shrugged. "I'm not, really. One of my more…froo-froo fairy kind of friends always drinks them."

"_**That's right. Blame it on me. You're not turning gay at all…"**_

Harry glared in what he hoped was the right direction of Malfoy's hiding spot. Bloody, blond bastard.

"You okay, Harry?"

"Hm? Oh, yes. I'm okay. Just had a thought about my froo-froo fairy friend that wasn't very pleasant."

"An ex?"

"_**You wish, Potter."**_

Harry laughed. "Er…_no_. Not him. He's just being an ass lately." _Goddammit Malfoy, shut up!_

"_**Touché."**_

"So," James said, sipping his beer, "What brings you here on a Saturday night?"

"Oh…" Harry replied, "Just wanted to get out of the house, you know…"

"_**Potter. You're doing well. Surprisingly. But I think it's time to spice things up a bit. Just to keep him coming back for more. Touch your nose if you think you're ready for that."**_

Harry hesitated in his smiling on James' joke about his own pathetic reason for being at the club alone – something about needing to be around lots of noise to clear his head or something.

"_**Okay…touch your nose if you want to know what I mean by 'spice it up'."**_

Harry casually scratched his nose and laughed at James' response.

"_**Okay, here's what I'm thinking: just ask him if he'd like to dance. If not, then don't look too disappointed. Or relieved! If he does – stick to the edge of the crowd, so I can still watch you. Again, if he gets fresh and you don't like it – tell him you're not ready; you two just met. If you got all that, touch your nose."**_

Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation and rubbed his nose when James looked the other way at a loud couple down the bar.

"Er…Sameson? Would you like to…dance for a while?"

Sameson laughed. "Nobody calls me Sameson, Harry. At least, not those I don't do business with. And even them, I prefer them to call me Mr. James."

"Oh. What should I call you, then?"

Sameson leaned forward. "Yours. For tonight. If you want me."

Harry blushed profusely and ducked his head, his stomach dropping out from under him. "Er…"

"**_Way to go, Potter! He's very interested. I'm astonished that your boyish, fidgety charm worked on him."_**

Sameson laughed at Harry's dazed expression and grabbed his hand. "Come on, Harry. I'll dance with you." And Sameson led him off the bar and down into the crowd, but Harry stopped them at the edge and put his arms on Sameson's shoulders. He felt nervous, jumpy, and maybe just a little bit sick as Sameson put his own hands around Harry's waist and rocked their hips to the beat.

"So, er…what should I call you, then?" Harry repeated, trying not to trip.

"What?" James yelled over the loud music.

"My question. You didn't answer it." Harry yelled near his ear.

"Well, actually, most people call me Jamie. Or Sam. But you can call me J-Sam. Or Sammy. Or James. Or Jimmy…"

Harry laughed. "How many nicknames do you have?"

"Oh, about a million. Do you have any? Is 'Harry' short for 'Harold'?"

Harry smiled. "Nope. It's just 'Harry'."

"Well, _just Harry_, I have a question for you."

"Shoot."

"Can I get one more dance out of you?"

Harry smiled again, not feeling as nervous anymore. This Sameson James could be a worse guy…for a criminal.

"Sure."

The next song was much faster, and Harry and James separated a little and danced, though for Harry, it was more of a weird, awkward shimmy and a bit of copycatting from the people around him. He was feeling self-conscious again, and then he heard Malfoy's voice in his ear.

"**_Potter, you've surprised me again. You were doing _so_ well. And then you started dancing."_**

Yes. Now he felt like an idiot. _Brilliant! My unwanted gay-advisor has come to save the day!_ Harry turned away for a moment and whispered, knowing Malfoy would hear him: "Is that a backhanded compliment, Malfoy?"

"**_You're in _no_ position to be cocky, Potter. Tip one: Relax. Close your eyes, and listen to the beat. Feel how it goes through your body; how it changes your pulse. Then move with it."_**

_Oh yes. That doesn't sound gay. _"Malfoy. Don't talk sweet nothings in my ear."

"_**Again, Potter. No position."**_

Harry paused, closed his eyes and swayed for a moment, trying to follow Malfoy's strange instructions. Then he felt hands on his waist and snapped his eyes open.

"Are you okay?"

Harry shook his head, backing away from James' touch. "I feel a little sick." Laughing nervously he said, "That'll teach me to drink a froo-froo fairy drink again."

"_**Or, you could back out of it."**_

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry muttered as Sameson led him off the dance floor and to a dark expanse of wall that wasn't covered with guys making out with one another. Or doing other things that made Harry's stomach flip and wish he hadn't seen.

"I can take a rain-check on that dance, if you like."

"That might be a good idea," Harry chuckled, pushing his fringe off his forehead. "I'm sorry. Alcohol doesn't usually affect me this way."

"Do you need a ride home?"

"Er…no. I'll be fine. I can take a cab."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"I'd like to call you sometime. To cash-in my rain-check."

Harry looked up at him, wide-eyed. "Er…I don't…have a phone."

Sameson gave Harry an odd look. "You don't?"

"**_Yeah, that doesn't sound suspicious at _all_, Potter. Tell him you lost everything in a fire at your flat, and you're staying at a hotel."_**

"There was a fire. At my flat. I lost practically everything. So I've been staying at the Berjaya Eden Park Hotel. In Bayswater. I don't remember the number. Sorry."

"What's your room number?" Sameson persisted. "I can look up the hotel in the directory."

Harry hesitated for a moment, rubbing his forehead.

"_**It's fine, Potter. Tell him."**_

"614."

James smiled that disarming smile again. "Then I'll call you. Soon."

"Okay."

James brushed a thumb across Harry's cheek. "Good-bye, Harry."

"Good-bye, Sameson."

James walked away, disappearing into the crowd, and Harry finally exhaled.

Oh God. He'd done it. He'd caught the interest of another guy.

A bad guy, granted, but a guy none the less. He really didn't seem all that bad, though…

"Potter."

Harry jumped at Malfoy's voice sounding so close to his ear that he hit his head against the wall. There was something fundamentally different about having someone's voice magically projected into your ear, no matter how quietly they spoke, and having them actually speaking in you ear. Harry couldn't place his finger on it, but it was a definite difference.

"What, Malfoy?"

"Let's go. I'll leave first. I'll meet you with a cab a block east of here. Meet me in ten minutes." Malfoy pushed himself off the wall and left Harry standing there, trying to wrap around his head just where he was, what he'd just spent the last hour doing, and what on earth he had just let Malfoy get him into.

* * *

"Potter! Potter, wake up! Come on, you lazy ass!" 

Potter mumbled something unintelligible and turned over, taking his pillow with him.

Draco huffed and yanked Potter's covers away. "Come on, we did not get in _that_ late. Get up, take a shower, brush your teeth, and get ready for your lessons."

Potter curled up from the cold and mumbled, "Malfoy, go away."

"Lessons, Potter! I have _zero_ time to teach you all I know, and it's going to take a million years to get you into shape."

"What are you talking about?" Potter asked grumpily, squinting up at him.

"_Lessons_, Potter. Today…is Lesson Day."

"Oh, no," he groaned, burrowing his face in his pillow.

"Yes. Now get up. We have a lot of work to do."

"No, we don't," he replied, sitting up and putting his glasses on. "I think I did just fine last night, Malfoy. You hardly helped me at all."

Malfoy crossed his arms and glared. "You think so?"

"Yes."

Potter yelped as Draco pounced, pinning him down on the bed. He struggled for a moment before Draco said, "And if James had you in this position?"

Potter swallowed. "I'd fight him."

Draco deliberately pushed his groin into Potter's and brought his lips a hair's breadth away from his. By the look on Potter's face, his stomach just flipped, but not in the pleasant way. "Are you sure about that? It might seem odd if you struggle too much. You don't want to come off a virgin, do you?"

He watched as Potter's face turned red and flushed down his neck. "You're hardly Sameson, Malfoy."

"You're right. I'm not. But after one night you're calling him by his given name? That's rather interesting."

"Get off of me."

"What if he kissed you?"

Potter faltered for a second. "Then I'd…let him."

"And it wouldn't gross you out?" Draco asked, still nose to nose with Potter.

"It's just kissing, Malfoy. I can fake it."

"And if he wanted more?"

"I'm not a _girl_, Malfoy. I can stop him if I need to."

Malfoy smirked. "I'm sure you could." He pushed off of Potter and off the bed. "Go shower. Then I'll teach you about how a guy should dress to impress another guy."

"Malfoy, if you dress me like some flamboyant-"

"Potter – I have taste. And I think I've figured out why _Sameson_ went for you and not me."

"I thought it was because I've got dark hair." Potter said grumpily as he got out of bed and headed to the bathroom.

"Oh, that's only part of it. I actually think it's your boyish charm."

Potter glared. "Fuck you, Malfoy."

"I think I'll wait until you beg."

"Then you'll be waiting a long time."

* * *

Harry got out of the shower, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist. He squinted in the fog, knowing that putting his glasses back on would be fruitless. He took another towel and rubbed it through his hair, drying up the excess water. Sighing, he walked over to the mirror and picked up his comb, then wiped away some of the condensation on the mirror, screaming in fright when Malfoy's face appeared behind his shoulder. 

Malfoy burst out laughing as Harry turned around and punched him hard in the shoulder. "You bloody prick! How the hell-" Then Harry looked down at the fabric pooled around Malfoy's feet. "Malfoy, why do you have my Invisibility Cloak?" he asked though clenched teeth.

Malfoy grinned, rubbing his sore shoulder. "I found it in your things on Thursday, and kept it for myself when you weren't looking. This was how you broke all the rules in school and never got caught, isn't it?"

"Congratulations. You caught me. Four years too late."

Malfoy shrugged. "It was worth it. You scream like a girl."

"Shove off, Malfoy." Harry narrowed his eyes. "Wait a minute! You saw me naked!" he exclaimed, pointing accusingly at Malfoy.

Malfoy scoffed. "Believe me, I made sure my head was turned."

"You're a pervert, Malfoy."

"Potter, don't accuse me of looking at your dick just because I'm gay."

"I wasn't," Harry said, feeling a little cowed.

"It sure sounded like it."

"I wasn't. I promise. Now will you go so I can get dressed?" he asked, picking up his cloak from the floor.

Malfoy shook his head. "No. I'm here to do your hair."

Harry groaned. "No. You cannot do my hair. There's nothing to be done with it."

"Then why do you have a comb?"

"To get out the tangles."

"Potter, your hair is too short to have tangles. I bet you just comb it to say you did. But it always looks so miserable. Why is that?"

"Because it does whatever it wants," Harry said with gritted teeth. When Malfoy stared at him, he finished, "Seriously."

"Doesn't matter. You can still make your hair do _something_ other than look like you just got out of bed." Malfoy snatched the comb from Harry's hand and turned him around to start combing his hair from the back.

"Can't I go for that 'recently shagged' look?" Harry said, tongue-in-cheek.

"Cheeky monkey," Malfoy replied.

"Cheeky monkey? I really can't imagine Draco Malfoy would say something like that."

"Well, I said it. You don't need to use your imagination. But there _is_ a difference between 'just out of bed' and 'recently shagged'. And – yes, that 'recently shagged and ready for more' look is what I'm going for."

"Ah. Well good. I'll be desired by all homosexuals from here to Manchester with Draco Malfoy, Knower of All Things Gay, by my side."

Malfoy flicked his shoulder. "Stop being a prat. And not _all_ homosexuals will want you. I won't. And neither will the lesbians. Or anyone with half a brain. That last one including heterosexual women of course."

"I do so enjoy these little chats of ours."

"I think I enjoy them more."

Harry, unable to think of a good comeback, stood there and watched with blurry vision as Malfoy's pale hands ran through his hair, twisting it every which way. After several long moments, he moved away and said,

"There."

Harry looked dubious. "Er…Malfoy…it looks the same as always."

"That's because, Potter, you couldn't see good fashion if it bit you in the arse."

"Isn't it only going to get messed up once I put on my shirt?"

"Well, of course. But that just means you get to practice doing it yourself," Malfoy grinned.

Harry groaned. "Just…get out. Let me finish _grooming_ myself in peace."

Malfoy chuckled and left Harry to his own devices.

_Another long day with Malfoy. Great._

* * *

"Okay. Now why does this shirt not work on you?" 

Harry sighed in frustration. "Malfoy, I don't know. I think we've already established that I have no fashion sense. Why don't you just tell me what to wear?"

"No. You need to understand it for yourself."

"Malfoy, I'm tired of playing dress-up."

"And now you're whining. Fine. This is the last one."

"Thank Merlin."

"Now tell me, why do you think this shirt doesn't work on you?"

Harry stared at his reflection. Malfoy made him put on a black fishnet shirt with his normal blue jeans, and that was all Harry could see that was wrong – except that the shirt felt too tight.

"It's too tight. And it doesn't go with my pants."

Malfoy nodded. "Good. Also, your shoulders are _slightly_ too broad for this kind of shirt." Malfoy stood behind him and looked at his full-length reflection from over his shoulder. "You're a little broad for you height, but you're not stocky. We're actually about the same build, as much as it pains me to admit, but I'm taller, so I'm a little slimmer than you in the shoulders."

"You're only taller by four inches, Malfoy."

"Yes, but I'm still taller. With your build – and really, I'm surprised you filled out so well; you were really bloody scrawny in school – you'll look better in nice shirts with a belt and either slacks or jeans, depending on how casual you're going for. Suits would also look really great on you."

"Finally! We're done with Fashion 101." Harry grabbed the hem of the shirt and yanked it over his head, mussing up his already mussed hair and skewing his glasses. "Can we eat now? I'm starving."

"Fine, fine," Malfoy huffed as they left their room in search of food.

* * *

They were sitting on a park bench, watching pigeons and passers-by, eating gyros from a nearby cart, and left to their own thoughts; as neither was particularly keen on acting as if they were friends. Which they weren't. By any means of the word. But Harry was curious about one thing… 

"Hey Malfoy?" Harry asked after a while.

"Yeah, Potter?" Draco replied.

"Can I…ask you a question?"

"That depends on the question, Potter."

"Well, it's kind of personal."

Draco mused as he chewed on a bite of lamb, pita, veggies, and tzatziki. "How about this. You ask me this 'kind of' personal question, and I'll let you know whether or not I'll answer it."

"Alright." Harry took a deep breath. "How did you know? That you were gay, I mean?"

Draco smirked. "Trying to figure out if you are?"

"Malfoy…would you please stop with that and just answer the question? I'm just curious. You said you thought you'd marry Pansy Parkinson, and _I_ never thought of you as anything other than straight…"

"I can't exactly pin-point it, Potter. I liked Pansy. She was one of the few girls who didn't annoy or disgust me. She wasn't too clingy and she knew how to deal with my…rants. Or my moods, for lack of a better term. She _got_ me, in other words. And she was the prettiest girl I knew. And she liked me." Draco wasn't sure what made him keep talking, but it wasn't as if it were a secret or anything. "And then sixth year happened. I'm sure you realise I didn't have much time for her. Or anyone, really. After that year, when I was mostly alone, and hiding from just about everyone, I realised that I didn't much miss Pansy like you'd think I would. I missed her company, but that was all. I actually found myself thinking about some of my more…envied housemates. And even the occasional Ravenclaw."

Harry, surprised at Draco's opening up, nervously ventured, "Can I ask who?"

"No, you may not. It's not important, anyway."

"Oh. Okay."

"So, to continue our little heart-to-heart, I starting thinking that perhaps when I was checking them out, I had actually been checking them out, and not just trying to make sure I was superior to them, which I was, but that's beside the point."

When Harry shot Draco a look, he said, "I'm really not as much of an ass as you make me out to be, Potter. It was a joke. I used to think that way, but I haven't. Not for a long time.

"Anyhow, I was confused, as most guys unsure of their sexuality are, because I still thought I could marry Pansy. I'd still marry her. If there were ever a girl I'd marry and have children with, it'd be her. She wouldn't make a horrible mother, actually."

"How'd she take it? When you told her?" Harry asked, trying to envision Pansy Parkinson as anything other than a pug-faced bitch.

"She was shocked, of course. But she soon realised she was the only girl for me, queer or not, and decided it was her right to be my personal fag hag."

"How'd you get involved in the Muggle scene?"

"So full of questions, Potter."

"Like I said, I'm curious. I never would have thought you'd ever associate with Muggles."

Draco finished off his gyro, and took a sip of his coke before continuing. "After I came out, I realised there were very few people in the Wizarding World that were queer. Or willing to admit it at least. And not many more were willing to accept it. So, I did some research. I exchanged some Galleons for some Quid, and picked up a few magazines with Muggle fashions, and a few on gay culture, where I could find them. Then I went to get my first suit tailored. The assistant was young, and some-what attractive, and he was obviously checking me out. When we were alone, I asked him if he knew of any good clubs in the area; I acted as though I was from out of town. He told me of a place and asked me to meet him there that night. I agreed, we danced, and he gave amazing head. That was all the confirmation of my sexuality I needed."

"Well, I could have done with out that last bit of information, but thanks for sharing."

"You're welcome, Potter," Draco smirked, standing and walking over to the rubbish bin to throw away his trash. "So, ready for your next lesson?"

* * *

"You should have told me there would be dancing, Malfoy. I never would have agreed-" 

"Oh, that's rubbish, Potter. You _need_ to know how to dance. And you _want_ to learn, right? So you don't look like a fool in front of whatever girl you manage to snag."

"I doubt she'll love me for my amazing foot work."

"Well, if you want to keep James interested, you'll have to keep dancing. Come on, Potter. Let's go." Malfoy turned to an expensive-looking stereo on the table that Harry didn't recognise and put a CD in.

"Malfoy, where'd the stereo come from?"

"I went and got it from my flat this morning while you were asleep."

Harry frowned. "How does it work in your flat with all the magic around?"

Malfoy sighed. "It's all very complicated. My magic actually makes it work with out all that electricity stuff."

"But how? Hermione always told Ron and I that Muggle electronics couldn't work around magic – the electricity would react badly with it – it'd fry the circuitry."

"Only around large magical fields, like Hogwarts. Smaller amounts of magic actually act as a power source, if you don't have electricity. Makes wards around ordinary building stronger, too. Like I said, Potter. Magic and physics. All very complicated."

"Right."

Malfoy turned and pushed play. The song that came on had a moderate tempo, and sounded a bit like the music at the club, but slower.

"What kind of music is this?" Harry asked.

"German techno-pop," Draco replied as he pushed a few more buttons. "Wolfsheim."

"Oh. Okay."

"Okay, so Potter, the first thing you need to remember about dancing is _relax_. You've got to stay loose. So stop holding your breath this instant." Harry exhaled and Malfoy went on. "Second thing is to feel. Feel the music you're listening to."

"How do I do that?"

"Well, listening might help."

"Malfoy…"

"Okay, okay. I've put this song on repeat, so you can get used to it. Now close your eyes. Do you remember what I told you last night?"

"Not really. I was trying not to kill you."

"I told you to feel the beat of the music and how it changed your pulse."

"If people's pulses went this fast, they'd all die."

"Potter, you're being difficult. Just keep your eyes closed and listen. Don't move." Harry did as he was told and heard Malfoy move and then the music turned down to a really low level; so low that Harry could barely make out the lyrics. "Every song has low levels of frequency; sound waves that you can feel when you can't hear them. Listen. There isn't a lot of bass – I turned it down really low. But you should still be able to feel it, as if it was loud and vibrating through the floor. It still pulses."

Harry's brow furrowed. "I don't get it Malfoy. It sounds like rubbish." He opened his eyes and frowned at Malfoy.

Malfoy glared. "Close your eyes, Potter. If you can't at least listen to the beat of the music, you can't possibly hope to dance with it, can you?"

Sighing, Harry closed his eyes and tried to feel the beat, which he could hardly hear. He was straining to hear the music above his own breathing, so when Malfoy suddenly grabbed his hand and put it on his bare chest, his eyes snapped open and he tried to pull away, yelling, "What the hell, Malfoy? When'd you take your shirt off?"

"When your eyes were closed, Potter," he stated, as if it were obvious. "Come on, stop struggling. I'm not trying to molest you."

Harry stopped tugging, glaring at Malfoy. "Then what's your point?"

"If you can't feel it on your own, feel it in me. Close your eyes again. When you hear a song, and especially when you know it well, your breaths swell with the harmony, and your heart changes it's own beat. Feel."

Harry closed his eyes, and tried to ignore the sweat building in his palm against Malfoy's skin, and how warm his chest was, but how cold his hand was over his own.

He could feel it though. Malfoy's heartbeat was faster than his own, and when the music swelled, Malfoy's chest rose with another breath.

"Can you feel it now?" Malfoy asked quietly.

Harry exhaled as Malfoy did. "Yes. I – I can."

"Good. Now continue to keep your eyes closed. I'm going to put my hands on your waist."

Swallowing nervously, Harry said, "Okay."

"And when I move your hips to your right, I want you to move your left foot in one step, then out one step. Then I'll move your hips to your left, and I want you to move your right foot in one step then back out one step. Do you understand? Do you need me to show you?"

"No, I think I got it," Harry said, feeling nervous and trusting at the same time. It was a strange feeling.

"Okay. Every other beat. Here we go." Malfoy breathed in, and Harry found himself still breathing with him, and as they exhaled, Malfoy put pressure on Harry's hip, and the shorter man remembered to move his left foot in then out, feeling a little ridiculous and stiff.

"Relax. You're tensing again," Malfoy whispered.

Still with eyes closed, Harry frowned, and concentrated on listening and moving like Malfoy instructed him to. He could feel that Malfoy was taking the same steps, and it comforted him somewhat, but then his own footing snagged, and he grabbed onto Malfoy's shoulders for balance, snapping his eyes open again.

Malfoy was close. Closer than Harry thought, even with all their touching limbs. He immediately took a few steps back, losing contact.

"You were doing well. Very well," Malfoy said, smiling a small smile that Harry had never seen before.

"You…. You're a good teacher. You've never been that patient before. That I've seen," Harry replied, pushing his fringe out of his eyes, feeling stupid.

"How do you think Crabbe and Goyle ever got through school?"

Harry chuckled quietly. "I don't know. I never thought about it."

Malfoy smirked. "There's a lot you don't know about me. But that's for another time. Are you ready to kick it up a notch? A step on every beat? You can keep your eyes open this time, and just follow my lead."

"Okay. Yeah," Harry said, confidence renewed, "I think I can do that."

"Alright. I'm turning the music up a bit." Malfoy turned to do just that, and the room filled with the same music, just as it was fading out. "We'll start back up when the music does," Malfoy said.

Harry nodded his understanding, and waited. The music started again, without the central beat Harry heard before. Then it sounded like the song came to life, and he watched as Malfoy started moving his feet to the beat, keeping his arms bent at the elbow, but his torso and hips moved a little too, arching slightly with every other step. He looked so relaxed and natural, moving like that, and it took Malfoy talking to him to snap Harry out of his trance and get him moving. He started off feeling awkward again, and almost tripped once more, but Malfoy put his hands on his hips, and he felt his beloved training wheels slip back into place. It was too bad he'd never owned a bicycle before; so he could have known what it felt like to finally take the training wheels off and ride free on his own.

* * *

It was when Potter tripped the first time and snapped his eyes open to look up into Draco's that he knew. 

He was falling for the bastard.

Okay, so maybe "falling" was too strong a word. Perhaps "liking in a plutonic way" or "feeling a modicum of interest for" might have been better terms. He certainly wasn't falling for The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-A-Man-That-Draco-Had-To-Help-Survive-The-Muggle-Gay-Scene. The very idea was preposterous.

And yet, here he was, actually enjoying himself with the blighter.

Once Potter was going, he started flowing more naturally with the movement, and put his arms around Draco's neck and watched their feet as they moved to the moderate beat of the song. What Potter didn't know, of course, was that Draco also put the song off "repeat", and in about ten seconds, the song would change to something a bit faster and a lot more energising. And when it did, Draco would have a lot of fun catching Harry as he fell again.

This could actually be a problem worth panicking about, if Draco Malfoy ever panicked.

And when Potter _did_ trip, Draco was there to catch him, laugh, and pull the brunet into another round of dancing, turning him into a spin that ended with them sprawled out on the floor, Draco on top, and very content on not moving, to his own personal horror.

Potter stared up at him with wide eyes and rosy cheeks, obviously just realising the position they were in, and most likely intent on changing it here in the next half a second. They were spared, luckily, of strange apologies and awkwardness by the phone ringing.

"I'll get it!" Potter exclaimed, ducking out from under Draco as the blond moved to stand.

Draco watched as Potter dashed to the phone sitting on the table between their beds, picking it up and answering it with a rushed, "Hello?"

The blond, true to his nature, felt a little miffed. It was as if Potter were embarrassed. Or afraid. It wasn't as if Draco was actually going to _try_ anything, for Merlin sakes. It was _Potter._ Definitely not Draco's type in the first place. It was really just being near him for so long that was getting to Draco's head. So Potter wasn't actually all that bad a guy. So what? It didn't mean that Draco was _attracted_ to him or anything. He really was just trying to make sure Potter didn't do something stupid, like _fall_ for the Muggle bastard, who apparently was on the phone.

And Draco wasn't trying to reassure himself. Of anything. There was nothing to be reassured about.

"Tonight? Oh, yeah, I think I can do that. What time?" Potter said into the receiver, and Draco felt compelled to turn the music down a bit. But only so Potter didn't have to talk so loudly. Not because he wanted to eavesdrop.

"Eight? I can be ready. Do you want to meet me in the lobby? Okay. Yeah. How casual is this? Okay. I'll meet you downstairs in two hours, then. Good-bye Sameson."

Potter hung up and turned to Draco, who turned off the music completely. "I've got a date tonight."

"With the Muggle?"

"With James, yes. He's taking me out to dinner at a little Chinese place in Chelsea. I've got to go shower."

Draco barely had time to remind Potter that he was to be on comm at all times, and that Draco would be in the restaurant too, before the overly-eager _straight man_ closed the bathroom door to shower and get ready for his "date" with another guy.

Draco frowned. _I either really freaked him out, or he actually likes this guy._

_This could be a bigger problem than I originally thought._

* * *

**A/N: **_Look out for chapter three next week!_


	3. Chapter Three: Gluttony

**WRITTEN FOR THE TWO BROOMSTICKS FALL FIC-A-THON **

**Summary: **Harry and Draco had a mission. It was simple. Find out who stole the artefact, and get it back from the Muggle fencing it. Not as simple as it sounds, when you both hate each other with a passion, and the Muggle starts falling for your straight partner, who you need to help handle the Muggle Gay Scene. And what happens when you start falling for him too?

**Warnings: **Some swearing, and fairly graphic sex. There will be pre-chapter warnings when the time arises. Post-HPB, post-war. Multi-chapter…around seven or so.

**Prompt: **_HP/DM. "Everything is working out according to the plan and that IS the effing problem!!" Post-war. Harry and Draco are Aurors/cops and have to work on a mission together. Part of said mission consists in catching some bad guy to get something from him. In order to do so, it is decided that Harry would seduce him and gain his trust. The guy starts falling for Harry, but he's not the only one... Draco does too. How will he deal with the newfound attraction?_

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, and all associated characters from the Harry Potter universe are the property of J.K. Rowling and those to whom she has licensed her creations, including without limitation Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No copyright infringement is intended. The author of this fic and the website maintainers are making no profit from this story or any of the site's contents.

**Thanks to all of you that have reviewed! It means so much to me!**

* * *

**Chapter III - Gluttony**

* * *

Harry heard the knock on the door, and quickly made sure the towel around his waist was secure before saying, "Come in." 

Malfoy opened the door and shoved a piece of hotel stationary at him. "Here's your cover story."

Harry arched an eyebrow, taking the paper. "My what?" he asked, holding the paper close to his nose and squinting at the neat script. Malfoy's handwriting was, for lack of a better word, "pretty".

"Your cover story, Potter. What, were you just going to avoid talking about your life?"

Harry shrugged. "I didn't really think about it."

"You weren't going to tell him you're a bobby, were you?" Harry remained silent, and Malfoy groaned. "Use your head, Potter! Do you really think a man who fences illegal objects is going to want to date a cop?"

Harry set the paper down and went back to fiddling with his hair. "Then what do I do for a living, Malfoy?"

"You're a school teacher."

Harry whirled around. "What?"

"A school teacher," Malfoy said with a devious grin. "Primary school. You teach Physical Education. You love the kids, and enjoy coaching football after school for the local children's league. You know a foreign language – but of a long lost culture called the Dravidians of the Indus Valley, a culture that lived over 32,000 years ago. You learned that language because you're fascinated with ancient and old cultures, which leads into your interest of antiques and strange objects of the occult, which is your hobby on the side. It's your next 'in'."

Harry stared at Malfoy, unblinking, for several minutes. "Was I in the shower for a day or something? When'd you have time to think up all that?"

"I think fast, Potter. Just memorise what I wrote down, will you?"

"And what happens if he wants to hear that language I supposedly know? I don't know any other languages…besides a tiny bit of Gaelic."

"You know Latin."

"Not really. I understand enough to break down a spell and figure out what it does without casting it. So I can't use Latin."

"Well, I wasn't thinking you'd use Latin anyhow."

"Then what did you want me to speak? Goblin? I don't know that either."

"Parsel tongue, Potter. Just speak Parsel tongue."

"I generally need to be looking at a snake to speak Parsel tongue."

"Then here," Malfoy said, taking off a ring from his left hand, "wear this. But it's an heirloom, so don't lose it." He tossed it to Harry, who caught it in mid-air.

Looking at the ring, he slipped it onto his right ring finger, feeling the cold smooth metal slide tantalisingly up his skin.

"No Potter! Not on your-"

"Ow!" Harry had just been admiring how the snake curled around his finger when it uncoiled and bit him, drawing blood. "Malfoy! Get it off!"

Malfoy stepped forward quickly, grabbing Harry's wrist, and holding his other hand out. The snake uncurled from Harry's finger and slithered over to Malfoy's, curling back around his. "It's an _heirloom,_ Potter. You can't actually wear it, you have to put it around your neck, or carry it with you. It's knows you're not family."

Harry sucked angrily on the small wound on his finger. "You could have _said_ that. How was I supposed to know?"

Malfoy sighed and conjured a silver chain to put the ring around. "Here. Wear _this._"

Harry took the chain, and looked at the snake, unmoving and dangling from the silver links. It had emeralds for eyes, and looked completely harmless. His smarting finger knew better.

"Give me your hand," Malfoy said, holding his own out.

Harry took it from his mouth and placed it in Malfoy's, who took out his wand and whispered, "_Episkey_", healing the wound. "There. I'm sorry…I didn't realise you wouldn't know not to put an heirloom on."

"Well…in my defence, you _did_ say 'put this on'."

"No, I said, 'wear this'."

"Whatever. It's practically the same thing."

Malfoy sighed. "Move aside, Potter. Let me do your hair. I've already laid out an outfit for you."

"I could have figured out for myself, Malfoy. That was what those lessons were about today, weren't they?" he said as he moved to let Malfoy in, passing off the comb.

"Yeah, but you're still hopeless."

"Gee, thanks."

Malfoy smiled. "You're welcome."

While Malfoy fiddled with Harry's hair, he slipped his glasses on and started reading the cover story the blond wrote for him. "Hey, Malfoy?"

"Yeah, Potter?"

"How'd the Dravidians die out?"

"They were over-taken by the Aryans. A race from the north with lighter colouring. Like me," he added, looking down into Harry's dark mass of hair.

"Oh. What was the Dravidian civilization like? In case James asks," Harry added. "I suppose I should know a lot about it, if I bothered to 'learn their language'."

Malfoy chucked. "I'm actually really hoping we can use it against him…if things get out of control."

"What do you mean? Like sic a snake on him?"

"Precisely."

"You're sadistic, Malfoy."

"No, I'm ambitious and smart. I know how to use someone's strengths and exploit their weaknesses." Harry frowned and was about to retort when Malfoy went on. "The Dravidians were a very powerful civilization. Like long-lost Atlantis, but on land. They had complicated sewage systems, and had their own belief system, which meshed with the Aryans when they took over, spreading all over Europe and Asia as the Aryans conquered most of the continent."

"Is this for real? How do you know about this?"

Malfoy leaned down to talk directly in Harry's ear, locking eyes with him in the mirror. "The Dravidians were the beginning of _Magic_, Potter. Their beliefs started the relationship between humans and the natural Magic Mother Earth had to offer."

"Oh. Well…that's important then."

"Yes, and all the more irony that you would know so much about them, being a 'Muggle'. Your 'interest' in ancient and strange artefacts might lead James to show you the missing artefact. Then, perhaps we can put a tracking spell on it and record its movement."

"Do you think we can use magic on something like that? Patt said it has a lot of inherent magic… I'm not sure it'd be wise to try and put a tracking charm on something like that."

Malfoy shrugged. "It's worth a shot, if we have a window." He set the comb down. "Okay. You're done. Off to the wardrobe."

Harry looked at his tousled coif in the mirror, tilting his head. "Thanks, Malfoy."

"No problem, Potter."

* * *

Draco pursed his lips nervously. He'd done a good job. If it wasn't Potter, or rather, he didn't know it was Potter, he might jump him himself, right here, right now. 

The problem, of course, being that he'd done such a good job, he was afraid James might have the same idea, and scare the ever-loving shite out of Potter, and the poor man would freak and blow his cover.

Sighing, he slipped on his own suit jacket. "Try to get him to tell you where exactly you're going, Potter. I'd like to get there before you, so if he sees and recognises me, he'll think it's just a coincidence that we're all at the same restaurant, okay?"

"Yes, Malfoy," Potter said, adjusting his collarless black jacket over the red and black embroidered sleeveless shirt he was wearing. The frog closures down the front had been tricky for the shorter man, and Draco had spent a few strange moments fastening all of them for him. The black slacks also fit perfectly, and Draco was desperately telling himself that he had only ogled Potter's ass for a second; making sure the fabric lay the right way.

"Have you thought about a temporary eye-correction spell?" he said, adjusting his silvery tie over his blue dress shirt.

"Yes, but I don't like the thought of using magic on something that's directly connected to my brain."

Draco chuckled. "Good point."

"Malfoy, are you _sure_ this isn't too dressy? Sameson said semi-casual."

"This _is_ semi-casual, Potter. You're not wearing a full suit, and there is not tie or cummerbund. You're good. Trust me. He'll want you. That's the important thing."

Potter made a face in the mirror above one of the dressers. "God, he's probably going to expect sex, isn't he?"

"_You_ set the boundaries, Potter. Tell him to stop if he's going too fast."

"Holding my hand is going too fast."

"Stop being a prude."

Harry looked at his watch. "He's probably expecting me downstairs. Com spell?"

Draco nodded and pointed his wand at Potter's head. "You ready?" he asked when he finished the incantation.

"As I'll ever be," Potter said after a long exhale.

"Off you go, then, lover-boy. Remember – I need to know your location so I can Apparate there ahead of you."

"Gotcha. See you there."

"Bye Potter."

* * *

"You look amazing, Harry," James said, putting out a fag on the cement and standing up from his lean on the bright red motorcycle behind him. He was wearing all black again, but with a dress shirt instead of his regular tee, and slacks instead of jeans. 

Harry flushed pink and looked to his shoes. "I didn't know you rode a bike," he replied, gesturing to the motorcycle as James stepped forward and took Harry's hand. He felt it immediately break out in a sweat. He could smell the cigarettes on James' clothes, and it was horrible, but he could also smell the cologne James was wearing, and it was a musky-sweet mixture, which Harry found surprisingly pleasant.

"Yeah. Do you mind? Have you ever ridden on one before?"

"No, but I wouldn't mind trying."

James smiled. "Great. Here's your helmet," he said, pulling it out of a backpack that was sitting on the bike. "Just remember, don't try to counter balance. That's my job. Just lean with the bike, and I'll take care of the rest."

"Okay. Where are we going?"

James grinned. "A cute restaurant that serves the _best_ Chinese in London. Choy's."

"Sounds good." Harry took off his glasses and put his helmet on, slipping the spectacles back on his nose through the visor. _"Did you get that, Malfoy?"_ he whispered.

"_**Loud and clear, Potter. See you there."**_

James slid onto the bike, and slipped on his own helmet before putting his backpack back on. Gesturing behind him, he snapped up his visor and said, "Get on and hold on tight."

Harry nervously got on the bike behind him, finding the footholds and grabbing onto James' waist and holding on tightly.

"Ready?"

"Yes!"

James snapped down his visor, and Harry did the same, and then James started the bike with a roar, and Harry found himself gripping tighter as they entered traffic and sped on down to Chelsea.

* * *

Harry got off the bike with somewhat wobbly legs, handing the helmet back to James. "That was awesome," Harry said, smiling. 

"It is, isn't it? I love this bike," Sameson said, running a hand along the casing.

"What kind is it?"

"A Yamaha YZF600R. Cherry red with a 599cc, liquid-cooled, DOHC, inline 4-cylinder 16-valve engine."

Harry blinked. "Alright. I have no idea what that means."

The older man laughed. "Not a machine man?"

"Not really."

James took their helmets in one hand and slung an arm around Harry's shoulders. "Come on, let's eat."

"This place looks nice," Harry said, feeling a little uncomfortable with James' arm around him.

"It's great," Sameson said. "This place makes the _best_ Mongolian beef and sesame chicken anywhere. I come here all the time."

"I may have to have you order for me then."

Harry entered the small shop first, taking in the pretty lanterns and dark wooden tables, and the tasteful décor that was lining the walls. A short Chinese man came out from the kitchen area, smiling and holding out his arms.

"Mr. James! So nice of you to come by again!"

"Oh, Mr. Choy, you know I can't stay away."

Harry took a glance around at the small amount of patrons in the restaurant. He spotted Malfoy, sitting alone and reading a book against the wall, and the blond caught his eye for a moment before going back to his book and tea.

"Is this a new friend?" Mr. Choy asked, smiling at Harry.

"Yes," Harry said, holding out his hand. "My name is Harry."

Mr. Choy took his hand with both of his and shook it gently. "Welcome, welcome. Let me show you to your table."

He led them to a table near the back, on the opposite side of the room to Malfoy. They sat down, and Mr. Choy promised them tea and soup in a moment. The menus were already at the table, and Harry looked up at the sweet little candle lantern mounted to the wall above their heads, before taking his.

"What do you like, Harry?"

"What?" he said distractedly. "Oh, um…I don't know. I like food." He heard Malfoy snicker in his ear as Sameson laughed.

"Well, this place does have food, but what I meant was, do you like noodles or rice? Chicken or Pork? Or Beef? Sweet, spicy or plain?"

"Oh…er…I don't know. I like fried rice. And both chicken and beef. And I like noodles too. And as long as it's not too spicy, I'm okay. Sweet's fine too. I like sweet and sour pork."

"Alright, then I think…we'll do a sampler platter. Mr. Choy will make us five dishes of our choosing, with white rice and egg rolls. Sound good?"

"Perfect," Harry replied, wondering how what seemed like such a neat guy could be involved in moving illegal objects around the country. "What dishes should we choose?"

"Hm… How about sweet and sour pork, Mongolian beef, sesame chicken, chow mein, and…"

"The dumplings are looking very tasty tonight, Mr. James, if I may make a suggestion," Mr. Choy said, setting down a china tea pot and two small handle-less cups and two small bowls filled with broth and vegetables with sort of strange looking spoons.

"Dumplings it is, then. Did you get the rest?"

Mr. Choy nodded. "I did indeed. It shall all be ready shortly. Enjoy." He bowed shortly, and scurried back into the kitchen, yelling out some orders in Chinese to his kitchen staff.

"You must come here a lot to get such good service from Mr. Choy himself," Harry said.

"Oh, yes. I do. Chinese is my favourite, and I can't cook, so I let Mrs. Choy do it for me."

"Oh, Mr. Choy's wife works in the kitchen?"

"Yes, but only as a prep chef. But she also makes the desserts. They really are divine. If you're not too full, we should get something afterwards."

"Maybe."

They paused in their talk as a gorgeous young Chinese woman dressed in a dress that resembled Harry's shirt came out of the kitchen and served Malfoy a small noodle dish, and the smell wafted over to them.

"Smells good," Harry said.

"Tastes better," James replied. "Hey… I…think I know that guy."

"Oh?" Harry said nervously, waiting for the ball to drop.

"I think…well, he sort of looks like the bloke that hit on me last night…before you did," he added, shooting Harry a seductive smile.

"Oh. Well…if it is him, he doesn't look all that bad." Harry knew Malfoy wanted to make a comment, but couldn't on account of his being watched.

"I told you he wasn't my type," Sameson said.

"And I am?"

"More than you know, Harry."

Harry felt himself getting red, and looked down into his soup, picking up the flat-bottomed spoon and dipping it into the broth. God, this was so uncomfortable, with this _guy_ obviously flirting with him…small talk Harry could do, but what would happen when he wanted to kiss Harry? Or worse…take him home?

"That embarrasses you, doesn't it?"

"I just…don't know how to react."

James slid a hand across the table and placed it on Harry's free one. "You don't have to react. I'm attracted to you; that's all there is to it at this point. We're having dinner to get to know each other, Harry."

Harry nodded, smiling nervously through his fringe. "Okay."

James withdrew his hand and started in on his own soup. "Was I mistaken in assuming you asked to buy me a drink last night because you're attracted to me too? Was there some other motive?" There was an extremely subtle edge to his voice, but Harry heard it and waved his own red flag.

"What? Oh, no. I thought you…well, you looked kind of lonely, and in need of some company-"

"_**You have to tell him you thought he was hot, Potter, or he'll never believe you."**_

"…and…I thought you were…hot," Harry blurted out, feeling absolutely ridiculous.

Sameson smiled. "What do you do for a living, Harry?"

"I'm a…school teacher. Primary school. I teach Physical Education." Was he sweating? Oh, Merlin, please let him not be sweating… Damn this lying shite.

"A school teacher?" James smirked. "You don't seem like the type. Or, rather, I think I'd personally be worried about some parents finding out I was gay and going after me because they'd think I was molesting their children."

"Oh. Oh, well, it's not like that. The parents don't know. It's not that I hide it or anything…but I'm only with their children for an hour once a week, and I coach most of them after school for the Youth Football League…I think they trust me, and don't ask questions as to why I don't have a wife. I'm only twenty-one, after all," he finished, drinking some tea too help calm his nerves.

Another couple came in the door, and the young Chinese woman from before came out to greet them and seat them near the window. The restaurant was really very empty, even for a Sunday evening. It was only himself and James, Malfoy, the other couple, and an older woman sitting nearer to the door.

"Twenty-one, eh? How old do you think I am?"

Harry already knew this from the information in the file Malfoy and he had received on James. "Twenty-eight," he answered with a smirk before pouring himself some tea.

"Spot on…how'd you guess?"

"Just lucky, I guess."

James sat back, giving Harry a calculating but friendly look. "I think I'm the lucky one."

"How so?"

"You're a school teacher. Who wouldn't want to date a school teacher?"

Harry chuckled. "Lots of people, I'm sure. What do you do for a living?"

Harry could hear the pause before Sameson answered. "My job is far less glamorous. I'm a Pawn Shop Dealer. I own the pawn shop with a friend."

_Interesting…he didn't lie. Let's step this up a notch._

"Hey, that sounds like fun. I bet you have all sorts of interesting things come through the shop."

"Yeah, we do get some pretty neat things. Sometimes we even get things that should probably be in a museum or an antiques shop."

"_**Make sure he invites you to the shop, Potter."**_

"Really?" Harry said with enthusiasm. "I'm really interested in strange artefacts; it's sort of a hobby of mine."

"Maybe I'll have to bring you by the shop sometime."

Right then, Mr. Choy and his hostess came to their table bearing several plates heaped with different types of food, and a large bamboo steamer filled with white rice, along with a side of egg rolls and a few different sauces.

"Wow…how are we going to eat all this?" Harry asked.

"We can always take some home," James replied.

"But you have a bike."

"I have an expandable tank bag in my backpack. I can hook it up to the tank and it'll keep it warm."

"Oh. Neat."

"Thank you, Mr. Choy. It looks wonderful, as always," Sameson said, picking up the wooden chopsticks the hostess placed by his new plate.

Mr. Choy bowed. "Always a pleasure, Mr. James." Then he and his hostess scurried off.

"Um…where's my fork?" Harry asked, lifting up his plate and looking around the table.

Sameson burst out laughing. "You have to use chopsticks, Harry. No forks allowed."

"_**Don't tell me you've never used chopsticks before, Potter. Sweet Merlin."**_

"Well, it's not like I've spent time over there, Malfoy," Harry mumbled, fiddling with getting the chopsticks out of their paper wrapper.

"What was that?" James asked.

"Nothing…I just…how do you use these things? I've never had to…"

James smiled. "Here, I'll show you. First, you've got to break them apart. But carefully, or they'll-"

Harry pulled, and one of them broke in two, leaving the other one holding on to the other half.

"-break unevenly," James finished, trying hard not to laugh, Harry was sure. "Mr. Choy! Could we get another set of chopsticks out here? We've got a first-timer!"

Mr. Choy came running out, chopsticks in hand. "Oh, dear me. Here you go, son." Then he bustled over to check on his other guests.

"Thanks," Harry said, feeling utterly mortified. Malfoy was laughing hysterically but quietly in his ear. And so were the rest of the patrons.

"Oh, don't look so glum, Harry," James said. "Just…gently."

Gritting his teeth, Harry took the two sticks and pulled, _gently_, moving his thumbs up to get closer to the point where they were joined, and pulled again, snapping them somewhat perfectly.

"There you go!" James said.

"Okay…but how do I use them?"

"Hold your hand like this," he said, showing Harry with his own hand. "Now, put the chopsticks in your hand like so, and scissor them back and forth to pick up your food. See?"

"Sort of…" Harry replied, trying it. It was kind of hard, but it wasn't anything he wasn't willing to tackle. Hell, if he was willing to pretend he was gay for the sake of this bloody mission, then he should be able to use a pair of chopsticks. Of course "willing" probably wasn't the right word. "Pushed" or "forced" would probably be a better choice.

He stabbed at a piece of sweet and sour pork, putting it on his plate. He couldn't do this; he was _straight_. He liked women; soft, curvy, dick-less _women._ A part of him shuddered.

"_**Get that scowl off your face before James sees you."**_

Harry rolled his eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

"Would you like some rice?"

Harry blinked, startled. James had the bamboo steamer open and was holding a rice paddle in his hand, looking at Harry expectantly.

"Oh, sure," Harry replied, picking up his plate and holding it out.

Malfoy was going to get a piece of his mind when he got back to the hotel.

And Patterson McGuire was going to get an owl. Possibly a Howler. After all, if it weren't for him, he wouldn't be sitting here playing "Gay Charade".

* * *

"It's a…duck?" 

"It's a swan, Harry," Sameson said, laughing at Harry's conjecture about the foil animal that Mr. Choy had placed in front of him.

Harry picked it up, dubious. "It's…inventive."

"You act like you haven't seen one before."

"I haven't." Realising what he just said, Harry added, "Only on the telly, I mean."

Sameson shook his head smiling. "I'm going to go take care of the bill. I'll meet you outside with the swans," he said, gesturing to his own swan. He stood, slinging his backpack over one shoulder, and picking up the helmets in one hand. With the other, he ruffled Harry's hair and brushed a finger down his cheek. "See you in a minute, gorgeous."

Harry gulped and resisted the urge to rub at his face. Grabbing the swans, Harry stood and walked through the restaurant, passing the other patrons by and stepped outside, taking the biggest breath of cool air he could to calm his nerves.

_Okay. The home stretch. Just get through this, and your night will be over._

"_**Potter, I'll meet you back at the hotel. Obviously, don't invite him up."**_

"_Like I would anyway, Malfoy. Think about who you're talking to."_

Harry was still rather upset with Malfoy, and cut off his end of the comm abruptly, thankful that his wandless magic had developed enough that he could do some spells with just a flick of his fingers.

_I'm doing just fine, and I don't need his help._

Sameson came outside just then, smiling at Harry. "You ready for your trip back?"

Harry smiled. "Yeah. I think so. Where do you want these?"

"In the tank bag. Here," and Sameson set down the helmets and took the tank bag out of his backpack, opening it and letting Harry manoeuvre the swans inside.

"I don't think they're going to keep their shape," he said.

"Probably not. But at least it'll keep them from flying around." He zipped up the bag and strapped it onto the front casing of the bike. Slipping his backpack back on, he handed over Harry's helmet, before putting on his own. "Let's get out of here."

Harry followed suit, and looked back to the restaurant just as they roared away, watching as Malfoy came outside to look for him.

He held a grim satisfaction in his chest as he saw Malfoy Apparate back to the hotel, and realised just what he'd do the next time he saw him.

When they arrived back at the hotel, Harry got off the bike having the distinct feeling that he was being watched, and knowing Malfoy, he probably was. _Bloody, blond bastard._

Sameson continued to sit on the bike, but took off his helmet, his longer dark hair falling around his eyes.

"I had a nice time, Sameson," said Harry, handing him back the passenger helmet, which he put back in his backpack.

"Please, Harry, call me Jamie. Or Sam."

"Jamie," Harry tested.

"You're not going to invite me up?" Jamie said, and Harry was having a hard time of keeping track of what to call this guy.

"Oh. Er…I don't think my roommate would care much for company right now."

"Your roommate?" Jamie asked, obviously sceptical.

"Yeah. He's been a bloody mess after the fire. I think he blames himself. He's a total drama…queen," Harry finished, feeling a bit more of that grim satisfaction, and hoping that Malfoy could hear him.

"Oh. Alright." Sam or Jamie or Sameson said.

They stood there for a silent moment, and then "Jamie" held out his hand and said, "Come here."

Harry put his hand in Jamie's and was led to stand close to him still sitting on the bike. "Harry, I want to kiss you. Is that okay?" he asked earnestly, looking up slightly into Harry's eyes.

Harry swallowed a little uncertainly and steeled his nerve. "Yes," he replied, feeling that nerve threatening to dissolve as his stomach flipped.

Jamie pulled him closer, and brought a hand up to his cheek. Harry, feeling very brave, did his part and leaned in farther; bracing himself on one of the handlebars, waiting for that inevitable moment when Jamie's lips would meet his own, and he would be involved in something he couldn't deny.

Then it happened, and Harry had to keep his eyes open, or he knew he'd get too caught up in it – but it wasn't what he thought it would be. Other than the fact that he felt totally out of control of the kiss, it wasn't bad. It was just a pressing of lips, and while Jamie obviously smelled like a man, his lips were still soft, and it felt only slightly different from the lack of lip gloss and the addition of some light stubble brushing his chin.

And then it changed; and Jamie broke the kiss for a second before kissing him again, and Harry found himself responding; closing his eyes and falling into it – just like he didn't want to. But it was good, and it had been such a long time…

And just as it was growing deeper, and Jamie's tongue brushed his lips, Harry pulled back, gasping for air, although he didn't need it – not from the kissing, anyhow.

_Am I having a panic attack? Oh, Merlin, I hope not._

"Come with me to Original Sinn on Friday," Jamie said, still holding Harry's cheek.

"Okay," Harry said dazedly, still trying to decide his stance on the kiss.

Jamie kissed him one last time and opened the tank bag. "Here's your swan. Somewhat worse for wear, but still warm."

Harry smiled. "Thanks Sameson – I mean, Jamie."

Jamie smiled and put his helmet back on. "I'll call you on Friday."

"Okay."

Then Jamie flipped his visor down and restarted the bike, roaring it a little before entering traffic and speeding off down the road.

Rubbing his mouth absently with the back of his hand, Harry turned and went into the lobby of the hotel, heading straight to the elevator. He had a feeling Malfoy would be waiting for him in the room, and flexed his free hand in anticipation of seeing the arsehole.

* * *

When Potter finally entered the room, Draco felt one part relieved and two parts upset. The bloody half-blood had cut off the comm! And at a critical time, as well. What if James had taken Potter away somewhere and Draco couldn't track them? What if Potter needed Draco's help and didn't have any way of contacting him? That complete _moron_. 

Thankfully, after Draco watched them speed off and he went back to the hotel, he heard James' bike roar up to the hotel moments later, and the relief started in. Draco ran to get some omnioculars, and watched from the balcony in great detail, actually, as James pulled Potter in for a kiss. He watched in mild amusement at Potter's obvious discomfort, but then when the kiss changed, Draco's opinion about the kiss changed. He couldn't admit it to himself of course, but hell, he was going through all this trouble to make Potter a passable gay Muggle, so the least he should get was Potter's first gay kiss.

He stopped himself from thinking it wasn't fair. He didn't care. Really.

And the last thing he wanted to do was kiss Potter. Really.

But then Potter walked in the door, and by then, Draco's old resentment had settled in, and he was ready to give the bloody social martyr a good verbal lashing.

However, he had only gotten so far as watching Potter come in the door and set down his stupid swan, and saying to him, "For _Merlin sakes_, Potter! Don't you _ever_ knock me off comm again-" before immense pain interrupted the workings of his jaw and he was looking at the wall instead of glaring at Potter's hate-filled face.

Potter had _hit_ him.

Punched him, really fucking hard, actually, and it only took two extra seconds than Draco would have liked to whip around and respond.

"What the fuck was that?" he stormed, touching his now bloody lip. That was going to be swollen tomorrow…

"You goddamned son of a bitch," Potter swore. "I am a respected Auror, Malfoy. The absolute _last_ thing I should be doing for a case is trying to get into some stupid Muggle's pants. A _man's_ pants, no less. No, Malfoy. If you're going to be on comm with me, you're going to keep your filthy mouth shut, you got that? If you want a lay, go get one yourself. Don't expect my _work_ to keep amusing you. I'm not some silly homo's plaything-"

Now really, Draco Malfoy could only take so much shit from Harry Potter. In fact, he thought he'd done a good job of listening, and even started feeling a little bad about his teasing behaviour until Potter had to not only call his mouth filthy, in obvious insinuation, but also had to call him a silly homo – and that was just _not on_.

Not that anything between the two had ever been, anyhow.

So Draco punched him. He gave as good as he got, and in result, wound up on the floor with Potter on top of him, giving it back again. They punched and rolled, and bumped into a dresser, and then a bed, spilling minute amounts of blood and bruising skin. Draco was sure that both of their jackets or pants had ripped or the stitching had come loose as a result of their tussling, but at that moment, he didn't care. All he wanted was what he had wanted six years ago when they were fighting in the grass – to do as much damage as possible. A few spells would clean all of this up, he knew.

And Potter seemed to know it as well. There was a manic and fierce light in his eye, as though all he had gone through in his life had led to this moment; a moment where he could finally make Draco Malfoy cow before him.

Well, it wasn't going to happen.

He wasn't sure what it was; because he honestly wasn't much taller than Potter, nor much heavier, but he managed to pin the lion, and he only stopped his continued beating of Potter because a drop of his own blood from his twice-busted lip landed on Potter's cheek, and something about that struck Draco as grotesque and defamatory; as if he had marred a beautiful painting.

Granted, that painting had bent glasses, a cut under his eye that was bleeding rather heavily into his dark hair and the cream carpet, and probably a few bruises on other covered parts of his body.

"Malfoy, get off," Potter all but snarled, trying to push his arms up from their pinned state. He bucked his hips once too, before turning flush red and stilling, staring challenging up at Draco.

"Malfoy, I said, _get off_." He tried pushing again, but Draco held firm, locked in a revelation that shattered his perceptions about not only himself, but of Potter as well.

"I mean it, Malfoy. My stomach – it's full, and you're _hurting me!_"

Potter's last shout jumpstarted Draco's reflexes, and he scrambled off of Potter to lean against the nearest bed; watching as Potter exhaled in a big _whoosh_ and relaxed all his muscles, spread-eagle out on the floor. Draco gazed in some strange fascination as Potter closed his eyes and breathed deeply, swallowing and probably taking a mental tally of damages.

"You're cheek…" Draco murmured, forcing his hand not to reach out, "I cut it. I'm sorry." He then realised it was the same cheek Sameson "Jamie" James caressed twice in as many days.

"I'll live, Malfoy. I did manage a good knee to the ribs, and a split lip, you know," Potter replied, opening his eyes. "Twice."

Draco belatedly noticed the throbbing pain in his ribs, and winced as he tried to move; the adrenaline was definitely starting to wear off. "Yes, but it's bleeding an awful lot…"

"Then we'll just have to fix each other up, won't we?" Potter said, sitting up gingerly, touching his face. He took off his glasses, and fiddled with them a moment before putting them back on, all straightened out.

Draco reached around to feel his side and swore he felt a few unnatural bumps and dips where there shouldn't be any. "I think you broke my ribs, Potter."

"Really?" Potter said, sounding worried. "Well, don't move. You're probably worse off than I am." He stood slowly, wincing as he did so. "I think I twisted my knee."

"Is it the one you broke my ribs with? Because that would be fitting."

"Oh shut up."

Potter shrugged off his jacket, noting with disinterest that the slit in the bottom hem was longer than it should have been, and then noticed with less disinterest the tear in the crotch of his slacks. "Great," he muttered. "I think your shirt is fine, though."

"We can mend them in a second. Help me with my ribs."

"Just a minute, jeeze." Potter hobbled into the bathroom, where Draco heard him conjure a basin and run some water into it. He came out a moment later with the small basin and a washcloth, setting it on the table between the beds. Then he turned to Draco, holding out a hand. "Here, I'll help you up and we'll lay you down on the bed."

"Okay."

With one good heave, and a lot of grunts of pain from Draco, they got him up on the bed; which was, coincidentally, Potter's.

"Okay, don't lie down yet. We need to get your shirt and jacket off."

"I will refrain from teasing you about being a shirt-lifter. I might receive more broken bones."

Potter rolled his eyes. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I realise I shouldn't have gone after your sexuality like that. I was kind of on a roll."

"But that's how you feel, isn't it?" Draco said, allowing Potter to help him shrug off his jacket, being careful not to move the arm on his injured side too much. "You don't like homosexuals. You think we're dirty. Filthy."

"Malfoy, that's not true. I don't care that you like guys. It doesn't bother me. What bothers me is that you seem to be taking it upon yourself to make me like you. I'm not gay. Deal with it." He undid Malfoy's silver tie and slipped it out from under the collar of his dark blue shirt, curling it up on the nightstand.

"Potter, I'm not daft. I know you're not gay. I'm just laughing at your expense. I'm having fun with it. I'm sorry if it seems like I'm patronising you."

Potter sighed. "Apology accepted. Can you unbutton your shirt by yourself, or do you want me to do it?"

"No, I don't want you to do it. Do I have a choice? No. So you have to. I really can't move my arm. I'm in enough pain."

"Well, I'm not a mediwizard, Malfoy, but I'll probably be able to patch you up enough until we can get you St. Mungo's, and make sure you're really okay."

"Oh, great."

"Well, if you're so good, why don't you do it yourself?"

"Because I'm _not_, Potter. I can heal cuts, bruises and some wounds, and even mend the occasional broken bone, but I can't mend my own ribs back together. Oh, Merlin, this hurts." He sighed shakily in pain as Potter slid his shirt off his shoulders. He didn't even notice that the man had unbuttoned his shirt and cuffs until he was taking Draco's shirt off.

Potter gently yanked the shirt out of Draco's pants before sliding each arm off and tossing the shirt on the other bed with the jackets. "Okay, lie back."

Draco did as his was told, and was surprised when Potter slipped off his shoes as well. "Do you like undressing me, Potter?"

"Malfoy, what have we been talking about?" he scolded.

"Yeah, yeah. No patronising. Get a sense of humour, Potty, please."

"Just lie still." Potter sat next to him on the bed started to gently press his fingertips against Draco's ribcage.

"Ow! Potter, you're supposed to fix it, not make it hurt more!"

"This is going to hurt, Malfoy," Potter said with a smirk, still prodding. He started lightly running his fingers along one area, feeling the dips and bumps. Then he began murmuring a few spells that Draco couldn't quite make out, and he could feel the bone move back into place, quite painfully, and then Potter was smoothing his fingers over the newly knit bone.

"Ow! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"I'm sorry we don't have any pain-killers, Malfoy."

"Its _fine_, Potter. I'll live. Ow…"

Potter smirked that irritatingly adorable smirk (When did he start smirking? Wasn't that Draco's trademark? Topping that, when did Potter become _adorable_?), and started on the next rib.

"Malfoy, I'm going to need to move your arm slightly for the rest of these. They reach back a little far." Draco nodded.

Slowly, with Potter's help, Draco moved his arm out, keeping it as straight as possible. "You're starting to bruise," Potter added, looking at Draco's torso.

"Well, mend that too, while you're introducing me to increasing amounts of pain."

"Do you always use sarcasm as a defence mechanism?" Potter asked, starting back up on the next rib.

"I don't know, do you always use unwarranted accusations and physical violence as yours?"

"I walked into that one, didn't I? And I am not violent. And my accusations usually have good reason behind them, thank you very much."

Wincing as he tried to chuckle, Draco said, "Your sense of reason is beyond normal realms, Potter. You're a maniac. You _stalked_ me sixth year."

"I knew you were up to something. Something bad. No one believed me. But I was right, wasn't I?"

"You know, I honestly thought that other than the fact that you were being your usual annoying nosy self, that you had a crush on me or something. Ow."

"Sorry. And no, I didn't. I wouldn't. I couldn't. I was dating Ginny Weasley."

Draco was quiet for a moment before venturing, "Have you…dated anyone else? Since her?"

Potter's expression turned grim. "No. I loved her. I'd probably be married to her right now, if…"

"If she hadn't been sent to St. Mungo's, you mean?"

Potter swallowed. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry, Potter. For what he did to her. I'd have killed him myself if I knew. He was already dead before I found out."

"You really would have killed your own father?"

"Yes. He was mad, Potter. Before, he never would have…tortured people like that. He used to only use spells."

"He _did_ use spells, Malfoy."

"I meant…he wouldn't have touched anyone. He would have thought it beneath him; to touch what he thought was 'dirty'. But he defiled her. And I'm sorry for that."

"You didn't do it," Potter muttered, and it sounded like he was forcing back emotions.

"Yes, but I'm related to the man that did."

"Have you ever told her family that? That you're sorry, I mean." Potter asked, and the pain in his chest didn't matter anymore.

"I tried. Once. I couldn't get past the front gate. And I don't mean that literally. I got there, to the Weasley's home, and saw it for the first time. And I couldn't. I think Mrs. Weasley saw me from the window, but I Apparated before she could come out and approach me."

"Oh. Well, I'm done."

"What?"

"You can sit up now. I'm done."

Draco, slowly, sat up, putting his palm to his ribs in support. "I'm still sore."

"Well, you might be. I don't have any pain-killers. You know, you're kind of a sissy when it comes to pain."

"Get stuffed, Potter."

"Hopefully you don't have any internal bleeding that exceeds a bruise," he said with a light smile. Draco rolled his eyes. "I still need to take care of that split lip." Potter took the washcloth and dipped it in the water, squeezing out the excess liquid. Then he reached over and took Draco's face in his palm. "This might sting," he said, before lightly dabbing the wound.

Draco hissed in pain, but watched Potter's intense face as he gently cleaned the wound. Then he whispered "_Episkey_", and his lip was healed. Potter took some extra time to wipe the rest of the blood from Draco's face, and Draco took the extra time to stare unabashedly at Harry Potter.

_Even with all the blood on his face, he's still gorgeous. That Muggle arsehole was right._

_Gorgeous in that annoyingly boyish, bookish way, of course._

"It's your turn," Draco said, taking the washcloth from Potter and dipping it back in the basin, rinsing it and wringing out the rest of the water. "This might sting," Draco said in a half-mocking tone, and tended to the gash on Potter's cheek. It was sort of deep, and Draco wondered how he managed to cut him like that when he noticed the Malfoy heirloom dangling from Potter's neck.

"I think the ring cut you at some point," Draco said, cleaning the blood from Potter's temple, hair and ear. He lingered over the drop of his own blood, now dried, before gently wiping it away.

"Probably. Remember, it hates me?"

"Only if you try to put it on, Potter."

"Still."

Once Draco pulled away, having healed the cut, Potter took off the chain. "Here, you should have this back."

"Yeah…" Draco took the chain and unhooked it, slipping the ring off and back onto his finger.

"It looks better there, I think."

"Because I'm like a snake?" Draco asked, feeling rather sullen, unexpectedly.

"No. Because green and silver suit you," Potter replied, looking at him oddly.

"Let's look at your knee," Draco said, putting the washcloth and chain on the nightstand.

Potter stood gingerly. "It'd probably be easier if I just take off the pants, rather than rolling them up," he said, as he did just that.

Draco's heartbeat fluttered a little faster, just as that realisation from several moments before hit him again, but harder.

It was just that fight. Roughhousing with Potter had excited him, that's all.

_Oh my god, I'm losing my mind._

Potter sat down again, and Draco moved his seating so he could better examine Potter's…knee. He placed his palms on the joint, noticing that it was slightly bigger than the other uninjured one.

"It's already swelled up," he stated, then started prodding the tissue around the knee cap, feeling for anything out of place.

"Ow," Potter breathed.

"Sorry," Draco muttered softly, still feeling the knee cap and then back around the back of the joint. "It seems fine, Potter. I think you just twisted it, like you said. It'll probably be swollen for a while, but you should keep off of it for the next few days and keep it elevated. I'll make you an icepack."

"What about the case? I'm supposed to go to Original Sinn with Jamie on Friday."

"'_Jamie_'?" Draco said in disbelief. "How many names does this guy have?"

"It's a nickname, Malfoy. He asked me to call him that instead of 'Sameson'."

"Oh Sweet Merlin." Draco sighed heavily. "Okay. Well, it should be good by then. I could try to find a mending spell for a sprain…I mean…sprains don't usually ever heal, right?"

"If you're a Muggle," Potter said, shifting.

"Right. I'll go back to my flat and see if I can't find something. Or better yet, I'll bring books for _you_ to find something while you're laid up. I've got to keep tailing James."

"What? On your own?"

"I can follow a man by myself, Potter. Just…lie down. I'm going to go find something to make into an icepack. Put a pillow under your knee."

Potter grumbled something unintelligible, and did as he was told as Draco stood and searched through the room for something to transfigure into an icepack.

* * *

Harry watched Malfoy putter around the room, hissing in sore pain when he bent down and reached into the chest of drawers. 

Harry watched him closely; trying to figure the man out. He seemed awfully calm and, well, even "nice" ever since they had stopped fighting. Harry didn't know what to make of it. Malfoy had been odd lately; strangely patient with his "lessons" and peculiarly tender with the small amount of administrations needed for Harry's wounds.

"I'm sorry I hurt you, Malfoy. You were a lot worse than me."

Malfoy paused. "It's no big deal, Potter. It's said and done. And yet," he said with much amusement in his voice, "_you're_ the one with the bed rest. You broke my ribs; you get to stay here for the rest of the week. So fitting, don't you think?" He turned around and smirked at Harry in that annoyingly familiar way, holding up one of Harry's dreadful socks. "Do you mind?"

"Er…no, I guess not."

Malfoy found his wand and transfigured the sock into a large icepack, snagging a discarded towel from the floor as he took it to Harry and began to set it up over his elevated knee, keeping the stay-cold pack away from direct contact with his skin.

"I think your ribs were mainly fractured, by the way, Malfoy."

"Still, they were broken, and it hurt. It still does."

"Yes, woe is you. I can't leave the room."

"Don't worry, Potter. I'll let you know if your boy starts cheating on you."

"Oh shove off, Malfoy."

"I'll go buy us some pain-killer potions tomorrow, how's that?"

"Generous."

"Like I said, I'm in pain here too." Malfoy made to touch the brunet's head, Harry thought, but he dropped his arm and turned to his own bed, sweeping the discarded clothing to the floor. "I'll fix the tears later," he said, dropping his own trousers before climbing into bed.

"Um…Malfoy?" Harry asked just as Malfoy reached up to turn off the lamp between them.

"What is it, Potter? Need your pillow fluffed?"

Okay…maybe he didn't have all that great of a bedside manner. What was with this guy's random mood swings?

"Don't turn off the light. I need to get the covers out from under me."

Malfoy rolled his eyes and threw back his covers, standing. "You're not going to bed in that shirt anyhow, Potter," he said, and Harry swore he saw a slight flush brush Malfoy's cheeks.

"Yeah…" Harry sat up and started undoing the frog closures on the shirt, shrugging it off as Malfoy watched. It was weird. He tossed the shirt to Malfoy, who in turn, tossed it towards the dressers, pointing his wand at it to get it to fold itself.

Malfoy then took the icepack set-up and pillow as Harry shuffled back and got the duvet out from under him. He then settled back into a lying position on the sheets, pushing the covers aside so Malfoy could set the icepack up again.

Pulling the duvet back up over Harry's body, Malfoy leaned down and said, "I think that gash might leave a scar…"

Harry batted him away. "You're odd, you know that?" He took off his glasses and set them on the table. "Goodnight, Malfoy. Thank you for your help."

"I'm always here, Potter," he said, which puzzled Harry; especially with the weary tone he seemed to have. Mood swings indeed.

Malfoy got back into his own bed and turned off the light. After several moments of long exhales and shuffling around, Malfoy asked quietly, "Potter? Do you ever go see her?"

Harry opened his eyes, adjusting to the light of the room for a moment. After that quiet moment he replied, "I used to, all the time. But she…she's too far gone, Malfoy. Her only lucid moments are from when she was eleven, and I saved her life from Tom Riddle and the basilisk. I still go, for holidays and her birthday, though. It's just…painful. For both of us, I think."

Malfoy seemed to turn to look at him. "You're a brave man, Harry Potter. I don't think I could see someone I love like that."

"Sometimes I wonder if it's guilt," Harry murmured, feeling that choking rush of sorrow starting to come over him again.

"You have nothing to be guilty about, Potter. I heard you weren't anywhere near her when she was abducted."

"She shouldn't have been in the war at all."

"No one should have been."

"I can't talk about her, Malfoy. I'm trying to move past that. Find…something different."

Malfoy hummed in what sounded like agreement. "So am I, Potter."

* * *

Strangled screaming woke Draco, and he was immediately on his guard, leaping from the bed and grabbing for his wand. He squinted in the dim light to see Potter thrashing about in his bed, most likely damaging his knee worse. 

"Potter! Potter, wake up!"

"Ginny no…" Potter moaned, and Draco could see tear tracks down his cheeks.

Draco set down his wand and grabbed Potter by the shoulders. "Potter, it's just a dream! Wake up!"

Potter's eyes snapped open and searched around wildly for some sense of reality. "Malfoy…?"

"Yes, Potter. You were having a nightmare."

Potter was shaking and covered in sweat. Draco felt his forehead. It was hot and clammy.

"Ginny…she was…and I couldn't…I wasn't really there, Malfoy!"

"I know, Potter. I…I'm sorry for bringing it up right before bed. Here, let's get this icepack taken away." Draco threw the covers back, having a bit of difficulty with the top sheet, as it was twisted around Potter's legs. He removed the icepack and put the pillow back up at the head of the bed. Potter was breathing harshly, rubbing at his sweaty brow, and shaking slightly. Draco knew what it was like…having nightmares that seemed so real.

He was pulling the duvet back up over Potter when the man latched onto his arm.

"Don't…leave. Yet." He breathed in quickly and exhaled. "It's just nice to know someone's here, you know?"

"Only too well, Potter," Draco said, giving the disoriented man a solemn look.

"Um…" Potter said, "Stay with me? For a little while?"

Draco felt his chest ache. "Okay." He climbed over Potter and lied down on his other side on top of the covers. "You can sleep now. I'm here."

Potter reached over and squeezed Draco's hand. "Thank you."

"I'm always here, Potter," Draco repeated, squeezing briefly in return and watching as Potter drifted easily back to sleep. When he shivered once, Draco secured the covers again.

He didn't know why, but he continued to watch him; falling asleep himself with dawn lightening up the sky and his hand on Potter's shoulder.

* * *

**A/N: **_There's some sexual stuff in the next chapter, so it's cleaned up a bit for FF. Please read the original at my website if you feel so inclined. The link is on my user page. I hope you enjoyed! Please review!_


	4. Chapter Four: Envy

**WRITTEN FOR THE TWO BROOMSTICKS FALL FIC-A-THON **

**Summary: **Harry and Draco had a mission. It was simple. Find out who stole the artefact, and get it back from the Muggle fencing it. Not as simple as it sounds, when you both hate each other with a passion, and the Muggle starts falling for your straight partner, who you need to help handle the Muggle Gay Scene. And what happens when you start falling for him too?

**Warnings: **Some swearing, and **fairly graphic sexual situations. ****This is a cleaner version - the original is at my website, which is linked on my user page. Thank you. **Post-HPB, post-war. Multi-chapter…around seven or so.

**Prompt: **_HP/DM. "Everything is working out according to the plan and that IS the effing problem!!" Post-war. Harry and Draco are Aurors/cops and have to work on a mission together. Part of said mission consists in catching some bad guy to get something from him. In order to do so, it is decided that Harry would seduce him and gain his trust. The guy starts falling for Harry, but he's not the only one... Draco does too. How will he deal with the newfound attraction?_

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, and all associated characters from the Harry Potter universe are the property of J.K. Rowling and those to whom she has licensed her creations, including without limitation Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No copyright infringement is intended. The author of this fic and the website maintainers are making no profit from this story or any of the site's contents.

**A/N:** I'm sorry this chapter took so long to get out. I was on vacation for a week (where I didn't get nearly as much writing as I would have liked done), then it took me about two weeks to write this fairly long chapter, then another week to get it back from my betas. So! I hope you enjoy this very long installment of Original Sinn! Many kudos to my betas, Michelle and IcyAurora - without them, this story would have many problems. The next chapter may be a bit long in coming too...I'm taking a break to write another chapter of my poorly neglected story "The Bet". Thanks so much for the support, and please review!**  
**

* * *

**Chapter IV – Envy**

* * *

Draco woke with a start, shivering. Judging by the light streaming through the open blinds of the balcony, it was fast approaching noon, and he was still in bed. 

Correction; he was still on _Potter's_ bed.

That fact was literally right in his face, because at some point in the night, Potter had shifted and was now facing him, curled on his side and so close that Draco could smell the lingering scent of his aftershave from the night before.

Carefully, Draco rolled off the bed, landing lightly on the floor. He stood and stared down at the ragged mass of hair poking out from Potter's covers, and the slight curve of a cheek, a nose, a mouth; a face that he had been so close to moments before.

Potter still had baby-cheeks, Draco thought. It really was adorable, and that thought jumped around in Draco's stomach for a few moments before settling in as acceptable.

Except it wasn't acceptable. Draco wasn't allowed to think about Potter that way, because they were _partners_. Partners in the professional sense _only_. And Potter was straight. He tried his damnedest to forget his revelation from the night before, when he had been staring at his blood on Potter's flushed cheek.

He _was_ falling for Potter. But he couldn't. It would never work anyhow. Potter was straight and just _why_ did Draco like him again?

There were not many things Draco liked about Potter. Okay, so he really wasn't all that bad to look at. Nice body, a few scars here and there, like that one in the middle of his bloody forehead…bright green eyes that were always hidden behind those _stupid_ glasses, a constant _mess_ of black hair, and a really mean right hook. Not to mention a temper and an irritating need to nose his way into _everything_…. Yes, not much to like about him at all.

But something must have charmed him, Draco thought. Something that Potter had, but didn't know how to use, because if he acted like that all the time, even men like Draco, who were perfectly content to fuck nameless men as long as they were hot, would gobble the poor man up; using him and spitting him out when they were finished with him. Draco even knew of a few women who would do the same thing.

So maybe Draco felt like he had to protect Potter? From people like himself? No, that couldn't be it, really; Draco felt no need to use Potter like that. It just…wouldn't seem right. He had known the prat too long for that. There was enough bad blood between them to begin with.

However, this Muggle, this "Jamie-James-Sameson-Whatever" threw Draco off. There was just something about him…and it wasn't that he was a Muggle. Obviously, considering his lifestyle, Draco had gotten accustomed to the species of unenlightened men, and was perfectly capable of even liking one or two. One had to have a few gay friends to rely on, didn't they? Yes, Draco didn't fuck the ones he liked…it made things messy.

Shaking his head of his progressively accumulating thoughts, he moved away from the bed and into the bathroom, taking care of his morning needs and washing his face and teeth. He still had to tail James today, and get those books for Potter…and forget that his little crush on Potter existed. It, like so many other things in his life, would make things messy and generally amount to disaster.

Yes, it was better for the both of them if it was never looked upon again.

* * *

Harry awoke to the sounds of someone Disapparating. The crack jolted him awake, and he squinted in the midday light. _Oi…what time is it?_

He looked blearily around the room and decided that Malfoy must have just left, going God knows where, but he was prat enough to leave loudly, rather than through the front door. Maybe he had to go far, and didn't want to bother with being seen?

Harry groaned, not really caring. His leg was a little stiff and throbbing at the knee, and he suddenly realised what was so different.

The fight. Blood. Bruised skin. An icepack. Malfoy.

He and Malfoy had gotten into a fight the night before, then patched each other up. Malfoy had been acting strange. Hot and cold, gentle and impatient.

He'd also woken Harry from his nightmare, taking away the icepack and laying with him awhile. Harry looked to the other side of the bed and saw that the covers were slightly mussed from the top, as if Malfoy had fallen asleep too.

A slight flush burned Harry's cheeks. He'd have to thank Malfoy whenever he got back.

His knee throbbed again and Harry turned over, remembering that Malfoy was supposed to bring him books on healing sprains. He also remembered that he was on his own today; that Malfoy fully planned on making him stay off his knee until it was healed.

Like he needed a mother, telling him what to do. He was twenty-one for Merlin sakes!

Okay, so in reality, he _did_ need a mother, but that's what Molly Weasley was for. He suddenly wished he had Hedwig or a floo or something. He dearly wanted to talk to Ron and Hermione about his current predicament. Of course, Ron would probably go ballistic, and Hermione would be sympathetic but methodical in her encouragement to keep going. "It's only pretending, Harry," she would say. "You can make it through this; you've been through worse before. Besides, isn't it nice to have someone doting on you? It's been so long…"

Yes, it had been a long time. Closing in on two years. Two years since…

Harry shook his head of unpleasant thoughts and rose from the bed, hobbling his way gingerly to the bathroom. He was getting past it, he thought. He knew she wasn't coming back, so the best thing to do was to move on but not forget her. As he stood there, he heard the crack of someone Apparating into the room.

"Potter?" Malfoy called, sounding worried, Harry thought. He smiled a little. Malfoy was surely an enigma.

"In here, Malfoy," he called, finishing his business.

Before Harry had a chance to fully tuck himself away, Malfoy opened the door, barging into the small room.

"What are you doing out of bed?" he demanded. "Do you want to make your knee worse?"

Harry squawked, turning quickly to cover himself as he finished what he was doing. "Ow!" he exclaimed as his knee started to give out. "Malfoy! Don't just barge in on people – I was going to the bathroom, you moron!"

Malfoy dived over to link his arms around Harry's waist, holding him up until he regained his footing. "And now look what you've done."

"What _I_ did? You startled me, you dumb arse. You didn't let me finish! And I still need to wash my hands. Let me go!"

Harry wrestled out from Malfoy's grip, glaring at him. He went to the sink and started washing his hands. "Well?" he said, looking over at Malfoy. "Did you have something more to say?"

Malfoy set his mouth in a firm line, looking away. "I'm sorry I barged in on you. But you really shouldn't be on your knee!"

A little surprised at Malfoy's apology, Harry said, "I have to go to the bathroom somehow, Malfoy." He dried his hands and made his way past Malfoy to his bed. Malfoy followed him dutifully.

"I brought you books… But don't try anything until I get back, okay? You might make it worse."

"And you're such the expert on all things medical, right?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes in exasperation and went to the nightstand, fiddling with the icepack and towel. "Let's get this back on your knee." Harry sat down and swung his legs up onto the mattress, letting Malfoy fiddle with the pillows and icepacks and towels, until everything was just right. "Here," he said, taking shrunken books out of his jacket pocket and enlarging them, setting them on the nightstand. "I'm going to continue tailing James this afternoon. I'll bring you some food in a little bit."

"I can conjure something or ask for room service."

"Not if you're confined to this bed. Do you _want_ me to magically spell you there?"

Harry was really getting rather irritated. "What's with your mother act, Malfoy? I can bloody take care of myself. I've been though a whole lot worse."

Malfoy looked mollified for a moment. Then he picked up the basin of water and the blood-stained washcloth and took them to the bathroom. Harry heard him rustling around, before he came back out and stared at another blood stain on the floor. Pulling out his wand and spelling it clean, he said, "I'm just trying to help, Potter."

Harry sighed. "And I appreciate it. But really, stop worrying. Just do your job."

"Do you mind if we go on comm? So you can call me if you need anything?"

Harry quirked his eyebrow and picked up a book. "If you feel the need to be attached to me at all times, go ahead."

"It's not that, Potter, Merlin. You're such a prat, you know that?"

"And you're not?"

Malfoy's eyes widened and his jaw set in frustration. "Whatever. Just hold still." Malfoy set the spell and went to rummage for his stake-out things. Mainly, his omnioculars.

"I'll see you later, Potter."

"Bye, Malfoy." Harry looked up from his browsing of the index of the book in his lap. "Oh, and Malfoy?"

Malfoy turned, his hand on the door handle. "Yes?"

"I'd like a blueberry scone, a cinnamon raisin bagel with cream cheese, and some English Breakfast with a little bit of cream." It was said with a growing smirk.

Malfoy's expression was priceless. "I am not your servant, Potter," he said, somewhat scathingly. "But you can expect it brought up to you in a half-hour," he finished, closing the door behind him while Harry chuckled in his ear.

"_**Hush, Potter."**_

"Somehow, Malfoy, you amuse me. You're softer than you let on."

"_**Oh, shove off. No scone for you."**_

Harry chuckled again, turning back to his book, listening idly while Draco ordered his breakfast for him downstairs, advising them to bring a room key, as the man inside was bed-ridden. Harry smiled as he flipped to page 193, knowing he'd be getting his scone after all.

* * *

Watching this man was _boring._ If Draco whinged, he would. Seriously, this was pathetic. Didn't this man do _anything_ bad? 

Other than stealing Harry away from him?

Wait…where the fuck did _that_ thought come from? Harry – no, _Potter_ – wasn't his, so James couldn't possibly…

Draco groaned. This infatuation sucked.

He remembered all too vividly the way Potter's form felt under his own while they had been fighting; sensations he hadn't noticed at the time, because he was too busy administering and receiving pain, and arousal tingled in his belly as he felt Potter between his legs again, and the way Potter had pushed his hips up, unwittingly, just trying to get Draco off of him…

Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit.

Draco clenched his jaw and focused back on his job. James was doing things that bored him. Really. He was at his boring Pawn Shop – which Draco was happy he could see into from across the street – and he really just talked with customers, took things out of the jewellery case, put them back in, chatted with people he knew, talked on the phone…blah blah blah.

Really, Potter actually deserved better.

Then he had an idea…watching James lock the jewellery case back up for the nth time that day, he thought to himself…what if he posed as a buyer? Get this over and done with, right now?

_Just as Potter was realising his homosexual tendencies?_ A sneaky voice in his head asked.

Draco pulled back from the roof's edge of the building he was staked out on. He turned and sat on the ground, leaning against the short wall, musing over this new thought.

It was a moral dilemma, Draco realised. Continue with a ruse that could have the _possible_ positive effect of turning Potter gay, with the adverse effect that he'd become increasingly uncomfortable and probably have to…do things that even Draco wasn't keen on doing with James – all at Potter's risk; or, successfully get the artefact _now_, so they could both go home and Draco could forget about this silly crush.

He didn't have a crush, though. Really. Crushes were for silly teenaged girls.

He'd forget about it if it were the last thing he did today, he swore to himself.

"_Malfoy?"_

Draco jumped as Potter's voice sounded quietly in his ear. "What is it, Potter?" he asked in a somewhat harsh tone, shaking off his insecurities and turning back around to focus on James.

"_I'm…well… I have to use the loo, and I think I found something. Maybe."_

"And?"

Potter sighed. _"And…you've been awfully quiet, so I thought you could spare the time to come over here and help me out."_

"I'm not going to help you take a piss, Potter."

Draco had the feeling that Potter rolled his eyes. _"That's not what I meant, and you know it. I could maybe use some help _to_ the bathroom, seeing as how you've threatened me if I try to get out of bed on my own, but it's mainly this spell…it looks complicated."_

"Maybe we should just take you to St. Mungo's."

"_If anyone needs to go to St. Mungo's, it's you, Malfoy. You had multiple fractured ribs. There's a possibility of internal bleeding."_

"I feel fine, Potter, minus a few bruises and still feeling sore. I'm more worried about your knee."

"_Really? You're worried about me?"_ Potter mocked. _"Can Draco Malfoy really care about anybody else but himself?"_

That did it. With a loud _crack_, Draco Apparated right next to Potter's bed, startling the man so badly he emitted some type of scream and the book in his hands flew up in the air, landing with the pages down and bent near Potter's uninjured knee.

Draco leaned in to Potter's flustered face. "Of course I care about people other than myself. Sometimes that includes you, Potter. Deal with it."

Potter blinked. "Er…okay, Malfoy."

Draco straightened. "What was this spell you found?" he asked, ending the comm.

"Can we do the bathroom first?" Potter asked, shifting in his seat.

"Yeah, yeah." Draco moved the icepack and held out a hand for Potter to take. Potter's hand slid firmly and warmly into his, and Draco found it so easy to slip that hand around Potter's waist after he'd pulled him to his feet. It felt…good, his side firm against Potter's, helping him to the loo…

Merlin, who was he kidding? He was attracted to Potter. That was all there was to it. And Draco wasn't stupid; he _knew_ that he would never be able to get Potter to see him the same way. But it wasn't like Draco wanted a relationship. That thought was just…absurd. It was _Potter_.

Draco made sure Potter was steady on his feet before leaving him there, shutting the door behind him. He stood just outside, like a sentinel, chewing on his lip in thought.

Potter was different, though, wasn't he? He still irritated Draco to no end, sure, but they'd had a nice day yesterday, hadn't they?

If you ignored the part when they had been fighting, of course.

Potter opened the door, and Draco immediately hooked his arm around that slim waist, helping Potter back to the bed.

"Okay – so what did you find?" Draco asked again.

Potter picked up his fallen book as he settled back. "Well, I'm not really sure. It seems to be in two parts – diagnostic and cure, but it's not just two different spells – the diagnostic seems simple enough, but the cure part is a little beyond my understanding."

"Meaning it contains a potion."

Potter frowned. "Yeah. I'm good at recognising symptoms from poisons and administering potions, but I'm still crap at making them."

Draco held out his hand. "Let me see the book. Then I'll get the ingredients, and make the bloody thing for you." Potter handed the book over, watching Draco as he scanned the contents of the pages. Eventually he sighed, closing the book and looking at Potter sadly. "It's not going to work, Potter."

Those large green eyes looked up at him, and Draco actually started to feel quite terrible.

"Why not?"

"Because this spell-potion set is for animals only."

Potter looked puzzled. "Really?"

"Yes."

"I was sure it said _not_ to use it on animals…"

Draco rolled his eyes. "It _does_, Potter. Merlin, you are so gullible."

Opening his mouth in shock, Potter cried, "I am not!"

Draco sat down next to him and opened the book. "Of course you are."

Potter grumbled under his breath and crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, then? Will it work?"

Draco flipped through the pages, stopping suddenly. "Well, I think I found something better…"

"What? What is it?"

"A salve for all joint injuries."

Potter looked surprised. "Oh."

"Yeah. It was on the next page."

"Well then."

"I'll need to get some things…" Draco turned the page and scanned it. "It will take overnight to cure properly."

"Don't you have to keep trailing Jamie?"

"_James_ you mean? Yes." Draco, feeling irritated all of a sudden, closed the book and stood. "I left my stuff on the roof. I'll be back later tonight with everything. You get some rest."

"All I've been doing is resting, Malfoy."

"Well, you're not getting up, okay?"

Potter frowned. "You know, you really confuse me."

"Really?" Draco started turning away. "Good. It's best to keep you on your toes. Metaphorically speaking of course," he said, glancing at Harry's injury out of the corner of his eye. It was bruising in patches around the joint and up his thigh.

"Why are you like that?"

"Like what?"

"A total ass one second, then all helpful and shit the next?"

Draco, with his back facing Potter, stopped. He couldn't seem to keep the emotions off his face, and he couldn't let Harry see how much he affected him.

"I'm…trying here, Potter. I'm an ass, you know this. Not that the fight was completely my fault, but you mentioned that we had been getting on better. So, I'm making an effort. We can't do this case without you." He turned around, his usual glare firmly in place. "But that doesn't mean that you still don't irritate the shit out of me."

Potter tilted his head. "Like you don't do the same to me?"

Draco took a deep breath. "I'll see you later, Potter."

Draco was practically out the door before he heard Potter murmur quietly, "Goodbye, Malfoy."

"'Bye, Potter."

* * *

Once Draco got to the roof, he scooped up his belongings, shrunk them, shoved them in his pocket and swiftly Apparated to the doorstep of his favoured professor. Severus Snape. 

To say Snape was delighted to have his life-long sabbatical interrupted by an emotionally confused young man was a gross miscalculation.

"Mr. Malfoy," he snarled with a sneer.

"Professor Snape, I'm sorry to bother you-"

"I am no longer a professor, Draco. Remember that. But come in anyway. What is wrong this time?"

"What makes you think anything's wrong?" Draco asked as Snape led him into the sitting room and gestured for him to take a chair.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Walls, Draco. You're like an open book. Keep your walls up at all times."

Draco sighed. "Then shall I even tell you what's wrong, or do you know already?"

Snape's lip curled. "You've grown, should I daresay, _enamoured _with _Potter_."

"Yes."

"Tell me about this mission, Draco."

"It's not allowed. It's classified."

"I'm better at keeping secrets than you are, young man."

"Fine," Draco growled, feeling as if he'd been reprimanded by a parent. "A Muggle managed to procure an extremely volatile artefact from the Department of Mysteries. Someone from the inside, most likely. Potter and I are to get the artefact back, and find out how he got it. Subtly. It was found out that the Muggle was gay, and so naturally, I tried to get an in through that. Apparently, he doesn't like blondes, so I managed to convince Potter to go in."

"Why'd you get involved with the Muggle in the first place?"

Draco frowned, knowing his answer would sound stupid. "It was an easy way in. Mundungus Fletcher posed as a buyer – or rather, he was trying to get some Muggle stuff, cheap, and found out the Muggle had a magical device. He couldn't afford it, followed the man, then reported it."

"Draco, you should know never to get involved-"

"Yes, Severus, _I know_. But I'm not involved here. Potter is."

"Which seems to bring us back to your personal dilemma. You managed to fall for him. Good job."

"Severus, don't patronise me-"

"I am not trying to patronise you, Mr. Malfoy. I am merely amused at your plight."

Draco rolled his eyes and glared. "I didn't come here to ask for your advice or to talk about my _extremely confidential_ case."

"Then what did you come here for?"

"I came here for a few ingredients."

"For what?"

"A joint salve."

Snape raised that condescending eyebrow again, and stood, motioning Draco to follow. "Well, you don't seem to be injured. What did Potter do to himself?"

"It was more a combination of the both of us being arses."

"Forget it. I don't want to know."

"He mended my ribs back together fairly well."

Snape whirled around. "He broke your ribs." It wasn't a question.

"More like fractured…but I messed up his knee pretty bad, so it's not a big deal." Draco said flippantly, but his eyes gave him away.

Holding back a snarl, Snape pulled back a book from the bookshelf in standard secret room fashion, stepping aside to let it open. "What is it you need?"

"Quite a few things, actually." Draco opened up the book as he stepped inside, hunching over from the oppressing feeling that only Spinner's End could provide. Draco never much liked Snape's old house. It was much too dilapidated and creepy for his delicate tastes.

"Most of its Northwest American…Shepherds' Clock – the leaves, Hemlock oil, leaves of Lamb's Quarter, Fir Club Moss, Flannel flower leaves, and Willow's bark." Draco looked up to see Snape standing very still with his hand resting on a bottle of Hemlock oil, staring at him questioningly.

"Can you name the true names of those plants?"

Draco smirked, his posture straightening with the challenge. "Shepherds' Clock – commonly known as the dandelion; Taraxacum officinale. Hemlock; Tsuga mertensiana heterophylla. Lamb's Quarter; Chenopodium. Fir club moss; Lycopodium selago. Flannel flower – also known as Mullein; Verbascum thapus. And Willow; Salix."

Snape nodded, but did not smile. "Very good, Draco."

Draco didn't show it, but his chest swelled with pride, and he beamed to himself in satisfaction. He watched silently as Snape procured the rest of the items, setting them down on a work table in the centre of the room.

"How much of each do you need?"

Draco consulted the book. "Three dandelion leaves, twenty drops of Hemlock, five leaves of Lamb's Quarter, 1 bunch of Fir club moss, 1/8th ounce of Flannel flower, and 1/4th ounce powdered willow's bark or equivalent that I can powder myself."

"Yes, all I have of willow is stripped bark. You'll have to grind it yourself."

"That's fine."

As Snape measured out all of the supplies and prepared a small satchel for transportation, he asked casually, "Are you going to pursue a relationship with Potter?"

Draco started, thrown off. "What? No! He's not even gay!"

"And that rubs you more than anything, doesn't it?"

Draco glared at Snape. "No, actually. It's _'Jamie'_ that's the bloody problem."

When all Snape did was raise an eyebrow, Draco felt inclined to explain, which he knew was exactly the reaction Snape wanted. Oh well. "Jamie is one of many nicknames for Sameson James, the Muggle, okay? He's acting like he's not a criminal. Like he's the sweetest boyfriend on earth or something. It's sick."

"And no doubt Potter's falling for it?" Snape asked, measuring out twenty drops of Hemlock oil and putting it in a small phial.

"Of course. He's a soppy, trusting Gryffindor."

"And he's also an Auror."

"So?"

"So…perhaps he's not too trusting. Perhaps our boy-hero might actually like the 'sweetest boyfriend' routine, or whatever you want to call it," Snape said with disdain, stopping the phial and adding it to the satchel. "But you said yourself he's not gay, so what makes you think he's trusting this Muggle? If anything, I'd bet he's trusting _you_ to get him through this mess you talked him into."

Draco stood there, quiet and contemplative. Finally, he said, "I said I didn't come here for advice."

"Was I giving advice?" he asked, closing the satchel and holding it out to Draco.

Draco took the satchel, placing it in his pocket. "I'm not sure."

"When you figure it out, let me know."

Draco frowned. "I hate it when you're cryptic."

"I'm always cryptic."

"Yeah. I hate that too." Draco tucked the book under his arm. "Thank you, Severus."

Snape waved him off. "It's of no consequence, Draco. I'm sure I'll hear from you later. Perhaps when Potter's hexed your balls off and you need them and your pride reattached."

"Thanks for the lack of faith," Draco said dryly.

"Always here to help."

"Goodbye, Severus."

"Goodbye, Draco."

* * *

Harry didn't hear when Malfoy returned – he was passed out on his bed, overwhelmed by boredom. The remaining books Malfoy had brought were only so entertaining, and Harry was wishing the blond had included a Quidditch manual or something. He should have known that Harry had nearly no interest in anything that came from a text book. Though Harry did file away some quick medical fixes for the field, should he ever need them. 

When he awoke, it was to a quiet bubbling in the far corner, and the smell of roast chicken and mashers filling the room.

"You're up," he heard Malfoy say, and he rolled over in his bed to see Malfoy enjoying a nice supper in his bed, and covered tray waiting at his pale feet.

"What time izzit?" Harry slurred, pushing his glasses out of the way to rub at his eyes.

"Nearly seven."

"When did you get back?"

"About an hour ago."

"Is that the salve? There in the corner?"

"Yes. It was very easy to make. I just had to get the proper ingredients. It seemed to be written by some Northwest American Indians or something…most of the plants originated from there. It'll be ready in the morning."

"Okay."

"You hungry?"

Harry sat up, belatedly noticing that he had been covered in a blanket. "Er…yeah. Thanks for the blanket."

Malfoy stood and brought over the tray to rest on Harry's lap, leaning down for a lingering moment. "No problem," he smiled.

Harry found himself smiling back, watching the blond as he moved back to his own supper, picking up the same book he had been reading at Choy's. Harry lifted the lid of the tray and breathed in the wonderful scent of food. "This looks wonderful."

"I got room service."

"I figured." Harry picked up his fork and dug into his mashed potatoes. "What's that book you're reading? I saw you reading it at the restaurant last night."

"_Harry Potter and the Muggle Man_."

Harry started choking. "What?"

Malfoy laughed. "Merlin, Potter, you really are gullible. It's a murder mystery. 'Who dunnit?' and all that."

Harry grabbed the glass of water on the night table and gulped half of it down. His eyes had started to water and his throat was sore from coughing.

"That was my water, you know."

"I'm not afraid of 'Malfoy germs'," Harry replied, wiping his mouth and taking a deep breath.

"Sorry to make you choke."

"No you're not."

Malfoy's head swung over to look at him with a frown. "Yes, I am. I wasn't intending for you to choke on your food, Potter." Harry wasn't certain, but he thought he heard hurt in Malfoy's tone.

Harry looked away. "Okay, I believe you…" He went back to his meal, and saw out of the corner of his eye, Malfoy flick out his wand and conjure up a new glass of water for Harry, taking his own and sipping from it. "I could have just-"

"No, it's fine."

"Are you mad at me or something?"

Malfoy set down his book and turned to him. "Why do you always think I'm out to hurt you, Potter?"

Harry swallowed his mouthful and set down his fork. "Because you've never been out to help me, Malfoy."

"I'm helping you now, aren't I?"

"Strangely, yes."

"And why is it so strange?"

Harry looked down to his plate. "I don't know…it's just…it's just strange because I'm not sure why you're doing it. I thought you still hated me."

Draco shook his head, looking away himself. "Hate is a relative term, Harry."

"Meaning…?"

"Meaning I don't hate you. I think I still despised you for a while – I mean, like I said, you still irritate the shite out of me sometimes-" Harry chuckled softly at this, "-but I don't _hate_ you."

"I don't hate you either. Haven't for a while now," Harry offered.

"I've actually…sort of enjoyed your company," Malfoy said quietly, and the admission hung thickly in the air.

While Harry was still wracking his brain for some kind of reply, Malfoy suddenly moved, setting his tray to the side and getting up to go check on the cauldron still bubbling away in the corner.

"Does it have no smell? Most of the potions I've come across, especially medicinal ones, always seem to have a horrible stench," Harry put in, watching Malfoy stir whatever was in the pot.

"Oh, this mainly smells like plants and roots, but I've added a few drops of lavender to make it smell better and evoke calm and relaxation. It also promotes love, peace and health," Malfoy added, putting out the magical fire underneath the cauldron. "There. We'll let that sit overnight, and by morning, we should have a nice, thick salve that we can apply to your knee."

Harry watched closely as Malfoy went back to his own bed and resumed his reading and dinner. "Thank you, Malfoy."

Malfoy looked up and smiled. "It's no problem, Potter. You did mend my ribs back together, after all."

Harry rolled his eyes and picked up his fork again. "I still think you should go to St. Mungo's."

"Well, I'm not going to, so stop asking."

"I wasn't asking, I was expressing an opinion."

"Well, stop expressing your opinions, then."

"You just want to control everything in my life, don't you?"

"Seeing as you're pitiful on your own, yes."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but decided against it, finishing his dinner quickly and washing it down with the water Malfoy conjured for him. "Malfoy, I need to use the loo again."

Malfoy finished off his plate and water and put it all aside to move to Harry's bedside. Instead of holding out his hand, he reached over and scooped an arm under Harry's and across his shoulders, pulling him off the bed, his other hand on Harry's waist to guide him up. Harry hadn't been expecting this and wound up leaning heavily into Malfoy's circle of arms. "Oof. Sorry." He pulled back a little and nearly bumped his nose against Malfoy's.

"It's okay," said Malfoy, watching Harry carefully.

"I…er…you're confusing me again," Harry said quietly, not moving.

"I'm sorry."

"No! No…it's fine. I just…it throws me off. I don't know if you're going to help me or hit me next."

"How about this? No more hitting. Then you won't have to guess."

Harry swallowed, feeling funny, and nodded. "Okay. Sounds fair."

"How's your knee?"

"It feels much better, but you should probably still help."

Malfoy shifted his position, to have Harry leaning on his side instead. "Okay then, off to the loo."

* * *

Harry waited until Malfoy shut the door behind him before hobbling the few steps to the toilet and unbuttoning his pants to relieve himself. 

Malfoy was acting very strange, Harry still thought. Sure, he was being helpful, but why? It wasn't like common courtesy was one of Malfoy's strong suits…

Then Harry recalled the way their noses nearly bumped a few minutes ago, and how Malfoy hadn't flinched away. Or how the blond didn't scramble away immediately when they had fallen to the floor while dancing…

Before Harry even fully realised what he was thinking, he refuted it. _There was no way. Not _really_. He was just…being a little nicer than usual, and you're blowing it out of proportion. He just doesn't get a weird feeling in his stomach when pressed up against a guy; he likes it…_

He likes _you_, Harry.

Harry's mouth dropped open a fraction at letting his realisation come to fruition, and his eyes crinkled with confusion.

_No. _No way_. It's _Malfoy_. He can't like you. It's just…just…_

_Entirely possible and completely illogical._

That weird feeling blossomed in Harry's stomach again and he didn't even try to suss it out. He didn't want to think about what it meant. It was just nervousness…he was weirded out by thinking such ludicrous thoughts about his partner.

_Case_ partner, to be more specific.

He finished up and washed his hands, taking a bit of a breath before opening the door. Malfoy turned from his sentinel position immediately, holding out his arm and pulling Harry close to him when he stepped gingerly up next to him.

They moved back to the bed, and Malfoy helped Harry move aside the covers and get settled in before taking away all the dirty silverware and putting it aside for the staff later.

Harry watched Malfoy very closely, for any signs of his previous thoughts, but found none. Other than that he was, again, being nice and helping Harry out. But wouldn't Harry have done the same for him?

He sighed under his breath and shuffled down into his blankets, turning away from Malfoy, who was reading again, knowing he wasn't going to go to sleep for a long time.

* * *

Potter had been very quiet since he came out of the bathroom. Not your normal, I-have-nothing-to-say-right-now quiet. Quiet like he was really on edge about something, didn't want to talk about it, and didn't want anyone knowing he was even thinking about it. The kind of quiet that makes you think you did something wrong. 

It's obvious, Malfoy. He's caught you. He _knows_.

Knows? How could he know? He's completely dim when it comes to matters like these, not to mention he wouldn't ever think that you of all people would like him that way. Because he certainly doesn't like you that way.

Right?

Right.

So Draco went back to reading, his eyes scanning the words but not registering them, until he finally exhaled loudly and tossed the book aside, standing to shuck off his trousers and shrug out of his shirt. He spelled them clean and charmed them to fold themselves and put them in their proper drawers. He then peeled back the duvet of his own bed, sliding between the half-warm, half-cold sheets, trying to get comfortable.

He remembered when he had gotten home that evening. Potter had passed out sort of sideways on his bed, an open potions book forgotten beside him, and his glasses slightly askew. The sight actually made Draco chuckle to himself before setting all of his things on a table and conjuring a blanket to cover Potter up. The black-haired man murmured in his sleep and shifted, and Draco had to catch himself from doing something stupid and soppy – like kissing the fool on the forehead.

Then he called room service, and went to work on the salve decoction, casting a notice-me-not spell when the food arrived. Shortly thereafter, Potter awoke, and oh, Merlin, was he utterly adorable all sleepy and bed mussed. It made Draco want to pounce on him, snog him senseless, and shag him until he couldn't remember just why he'd been straight in the first place. It really was a conundrum. He felt assured that he had kept his thoughts off his face and that Potter had been too sleepy to notice, but perhaps he had been wrong.

Or, perhaps, he was just being paranoid, and Potter's silence had nothing to do with him.

Draco wasn't sure which option he wished were true.

* * *

Draco woke up to find that he'd slept in terribly again – it was nearly noon. He was becoming lazy. It was as if the case didn't even exist. He should be up all hours of the night, watching James and plotting ways to kill the bastard. After securing the artefact and the name of who gave it to him, of course. 

He rolled over and looked at Potter, who was still curled up, facing towards the door of the room. It looked like he hadn't moved all night. Draco sat up, rubbing his eyes and yawning before padding to the bathroom. Once finished, he walked over to the cauldron, happy to see that it had solidified and cooled and that he now had a thick, green-tinted salve to apply to Harry's injury. He lifted it up and sniffed, pleased that adding the lavender oil had worked. It smelled much better. Not that nature didn't smell great and all, but so many different essences of plants was not like laying in a field of freshly cut grass.

He set the pot down and glanced over to see that Harry was still asleep. Sighing, he walked over to the phone and ordered breakfast service, climbing back into bed and grabbing his book to read while he waited.

* * *

Harry woke up to a loud knock on the door. Blearily, he cracked his eyes open and saw Malfoy walk over to the door to answer, still in his underwear, and not caring a wit that the cute waiter was eying his bare chest as he signed for the food. 

He realised that he had slept with his glasses on again, and that he felt increasingly stiff and sore, as if he hadn't moved at all last night, which, he thought as he stretched and felt all his muscles ache and his joints pop, he probably hadn't.

"Oh, good. You're up." Malfoy moved back into the room with a large tray, setting it on the table. "I ordered breakfast." He turned to look at Harry. "How're you feeling?"

Harry exhaled and relaxed his whole body as if he were a rag doll. "Sore."

"All over or just your knee?"

"All over."

Malfoy grabbed the pot of salve. "I don't think you moved at all last night."

Harry moved his glasses and rubbed at his eyes and face before replacing them. "I don't think I did either."

"The salve is ready. Do you want me to apply some now, or after breakfast?"

"Now is fine, I guess."

"Okay, move the covers," Malfoy instructed. As Harry complied, he sat down on the edge of the bed beside Harry. "Actually, I'm going to have to get between your legs here so I can reach your knee easily."

Harry nodded and moved his uninjured leg, lifting and laying it on Malfoy's opposite knee, as he shifted to get a better angle. "Is that okay?" Harry asked, as Malfoy set the pot of salve on the bed between Harry's legs.

Malfoy nodded. "It's fine. I just needed to get closer to your other knee." Then Malfoy dipped his fingers in the thick, creamy substance, scooping out a generous amount and applying it to Harry's knee. Harry hissed, and Malfoy asked, "I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"

Harry winced. "It's just sore. And the cream is cold."

"It'll warm up," replied the blond as he used both of his hands to gently massage the cream into Harry's skin, rubbing down the calf, under the joint, and up Harry's thigh.

Harry wiggled a little as Malfoy's hands crept higher, tickling him as well as jumpstarting his morning erection again and that silly feeling in his stomach. It was all fluttery and made his breath catch in his throat. It reminded him of how he had felt around Ginny sometimes, when their relationship was still new, and he was amazed at how normal that one thing in his life was.

"Am I tickling you?" Malfoy asked, spot on.

"Er…yeah, a bit."

"I can stop. It's not all the way rubbed in yet-"

"No!" Harry found himself saying. "No, er…that's fine. You can keep going." He bit his lip. "It's already feeling much better. And it smells good too."

"That's the lavender."

"It's kind of…musky? And sweet too."

Malfoy nodded. "It's a relaxing scent."

Harry took a few deep breaths and sagged back into his pillow. "Mmm…that feels good," he murmured, watching Malfoy's pale fingers massage the joint and the flesh surrounding it.

"Good," Malfoy replied, glancing up at Harry for a brief moment before concentrating back on his task.

Oh… Harry thought. That look… That wasn't just a casual glance, Potter. It was a look that-that _smouldered._ That was sultry-like and said, "_I want you._"

The thought of that look did not help Harry at all, and he was surprised Malfoy wasn't noticing what should have been a very noticeable arousal – but no! Harry wasn't attracted to Malfoy; he wasn't even attracted to men! So how come Draco was making him feel so _good_? It was a long neglected libido, Harry told himself. That's all it is…just the fact he hadn't gotten any sort of action save for his right hand in a long, _long_ time…

"I've got to use the loo," Harry cried shortly, startling Malfoy from his rhythmic ministrations.

"Oh. Okay. Here, let me help you…"

Harry tried to stay as calm and relaxed as possible as Malfoy helped him across the room, the familiarity of the motions comfortable and contradictorily unnerving. Once inside, Harry stood there, leaning against the water basin and trying to calm down. He didn't have to go to the bathroom, but there was nowhere else to be alone in the room.

After several moments, he turned on the tap and splashed cold water on his face.

"Potter? Are you okay? You've been in there for a while…" he heard from the other side of the door.

"Er…yeah. I'm just going to take a shower, okay Malfoy?"

"Do you need any help?"

"No-no! I'm fine. My knee feels a lot better already. Thanks."

Exhaling, Harry stripped his boxers off quickly, setting his glasses down on the counter and reaching over to turn on the water – as hot as he could make it without scalding himself. Gingerly, he stepped into the shower, shivering in a strange pleasure as the water sprayed down onto his neck and shoulders. Harry didn't waste much more time – he leaned forward, bracing his arm against the wall behind the showerhead and took a hold of himself, almost moaning loudly as relief from his problem began. Under the cover of running water, Harry allowed himself panting breaths and whimpering moans, trying to just feel instead of thinking – anything not to see in his minds eye Draco between his legs, his deft fingers massaging his own darker skin, reaching higher and higher –

"Malfoy-" gasped quietly as he came.

_Oh fuck._ He thought. _Am I gay all of a sudden or something?_

Angry, he quickly shut off the water and yanked open the shower curtain, yelling in surprise and slipping in the water as a very shocked-looking Malfoy stood there, already stepping away.

"What the fuck-" Harry yelled as he fell.

Instead of continuing his trip out of the bathroom, Malfoy rushed forward and grabbed onto one of Harry's slick arms, hauling him up and onto his feet again.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Malfoy asked quickly, cutting off any protests Harry had on his tongue.

Harry was panting in panic, gulping in lungfuls of air and trying very unsuccessfully to ignore Malfoy's bare chest against his, how tightly he was being held, and how _naked_ he was. Malfoy looked startled and worried, but Harry didn't have time for it.

"Malfoy, let go of me!"

"You just fell!" he yelled back in Harry's face. "I don't want you to fall again-"

"I'm fucking fine! Why don't you go spy on some other unsuspecting male in the shower! Someone who's just _dying_ for you to fuck him!"

Malfoy jerked as if slapped, his façade even more startled than before, before turning cold. "Fuck you, Potter. You don't know the first thing about me." Malfoy promptly let go of Harry, little droplets of water glistening on his chest. The blond turned on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him.

How much had he seen? Harry thought, glaring after the man. Had he been watching? Harry knew he hadn't closed the curtain all the way…had Malfoy heard him say his name?

_Fuck_.

Harry shivered as the water dried on his skin, and he grabbed the nearest towel and dried himself off, scrubbing it in his hair roughly. He dropped the towel on the floor and slipped his boxers and spectacles back on, taking a huge breath and letting it out before opening the door.

Malfoy was sitting on the opposite side of his bed, still only in his boxers, hunched over with his arms braced on his knees.

"Whatever rant you're about to go on," the blond said, "don't. I was just going in there to make sure you were really okay. You'd been acting weird before bed last night, and again this morning. I was worried. I wasn't trying to spy on you."

"You still should have said something."

"Yes. I should have. I'm sorry. But I thought something was wrong-"

"Well you should have minded your own business! It's not like you haven't been acting all weird around me either!"

Malfoy stood and turned to look Harry in the eye. "And why do you think that is, Potter?"

Harry grabbed for words. "I-I don't know."

"Well maybe you should figure yourself out before we continue this conversation." He stood and walked over to his dresser, snatching the first fresh set of clothes he came upon. Harry watched as he grabbed a few muffins from the breakfast tray. "I'm going to go tail James. You can have the rest of the breakfast. I'll be on comm if there's an emergency." He grabbed his wand and pointed it at Harry's head, setting the comm before leaving loudly and abruptly.

Harry waited a few moments before whispering, "You don't need to worry about me getting around. I just realised I should have conjured crutches." There was no reply. "If you care."

Harry flexed his knee, sighing as it ached, but happy that he felt like he could bend it much farther without it screaming in agony. Having his leg in a partially bent position for two days without being able to stretch it out had made the joint stiff.

Favouring his injured leg, he shuffled over to his bed, flopping down on it. He grabbed his wand from the nightstand and flicked it over to the food, charming it to stay fresh. Setting his wand back down, he relaxed back and thought about his current predicament. Sod Malfoy. What was he trying to do? _Make_ Harry gay? Actually doing it, not just playing dress up? If anything, he was just confusing him…

Or maybe, he'd never really questioned his sexuality. He certainly never paid much attention to it before; he was too busy trying to stay alive to really think whether he might like boys too. Harry couldn't really think of any particular times he would have thought of a guy that way… Except for thinking they were good-looking, like Oliver or…or Cedric. But couldn't that just be chalked up to being curious? To wondering if he measured up to the popular guys in school? Ginny and Cho seemed to like him well enough. And that Romilda Vane chick – Merlin, did she need her head checked. But that still didn't answer the question that was now stuck in his head.

Was he attracted to guys? _Could_ he be?

Harry really didn't think he was gay…he was attracted to girls… So he had a random fantasy about Draco Malfoy while in the shower – but really, the blond had practically been feeling him up a few moments before! Although, that kiss with Jamie was rather nice… So maybe he needed to see if he could fantasize again, without previous stimulation. See if he could think only about a guy and get off on it.

Harry closed his eyes and cast around for a visual that he could work off of. Malfoy immediately came to mind, and his near-naked state of dress that morning, with the wait service ogling him, but all that did was make jealousy twinge unexpectedly in this chest, so he ignored that vision with a note to himself to look into the jealousy later.

Then, naturally, Sameson James materialised against the black of his eyelids, and Harry mentally studied his face. It was thin and angular – sculpted, really. High cheekbones; straight nose; nice, rounded, but pointy chin with a slight dip in the middle; dark eyes and creamy skin. His features were remarkably like Malfoy's, but Malfoy was perhaps even paler, and maybe even more angular – with the slim body of a boy barely become man, where Sameson's frame was larger, and screamed power and protection. Malfoy was taller than Harry, but his thinness only made him look more delicate than manly, if Harry wanted to use that word.

Sameson's hair was longer in the front and fell into his eyes, dark and silky. Harry would have thought it'd make his pale skin even paler in contrast, but even Malfoy's white-blond hair out-ranked Sameson there. Forcing himself to _stop_ comparing the two men, Harry concentrated again on visualising Sameson in a sexual way.

It was harder, as Harry hadn't seen him in anything less than a t-shirt and jeans. But he looked closer at his remembered visuals, and saw the shape of his muscles, imagining the heat from his body, like when they had been dancing, or when Harry'd been pressed against his back, holding onto his well-defined torso.

He kissed Sameson again, feeling the slight scratch of stubble against his chin, and the soft pressure from his lips, and imagined those lips opening up to let Harry explore that mouth with his tongue. Harry was starting to pant now, and forgot to keep his mouth closed as he ran his fingers lightly down his chest, bumping into his hard nipples, and he moaned quietly in his throat. He forgot that Malfoy would hear.

Harry tried to imagine Sameson's arms around him; unsure about how it was between guys, as he had always had someone in _his_ arms, not the other way around. He imagined it, and it felt different, but good, in his mind's view.

His hands reached the waistband of his boxers and he quickly shoved them off, slowly touching his growing arousal. He kissed Sameson again, and felt stubble on his tongue as he ran kisses down Sameson's neck. Sameson moaned his name in his mind, and Harry took a firmer hold of himself as he started to masturbate.

In Harry's mind, Sameson took Harry's shirt and pulled it off, and Harry did the same to him, feeling with certain clarity the feeling of another man's bare chest against his. He felt arms around him again, and Harry couldn't get much farther, as he wasn't quite sure where two men went from there.

But he continued to masturbate anyway, rolling the images and sensations around in his mind's eye, everything becoming more heated and rushed and perhaps, even, animalistic, and Harry came with a cry on his lips and an arousing force that startled him.

He bit his lip hard as he came off his high, and wish he could taste blood, so he could ignore the burst of rising panic that was flooding his veins.

He was gay. Or, at least, he was beginning to have some serious doubts about his heterosexuality.

_Holy crap._

* * *

Draco almost dropped his muffin when he started hearing panting breaths in his ear. He whirled around as he walked down the street, just to make sure he wasn't hearing things. 

Then Potter moaned and Draco shuddered, nearly creaming himself. He ducked into an alley and Apparated to his own flat, forgetting about James for a moment. He listened intently as Potter obviously masturbated, and wished to all that was holy and magical that he could see it. He had only gotten a glimpse of Potter in the shower – much too shocked to hear his name on the man's lips to really register what he'd been seeing.

He ran to his bedroom and stripped quickly, falling sideways on his bed as his arousal grew and clenched his teeth so that he wouldn't make a sound as he took a hold of himself and masturbated along with Potter. He came at nearly the same time, opening his mouth wide and breathing deeply so Harry couldn't hear him.

_He must have forgotten I could hear him_, Draco thought.

Re-robing and feeling distinctly dirty, but not in the bad way, Draco resumed his spying duties and went to watch James, easily becoming bored and occupying his thoughts with those of Harry all wet and naked beneath him.

* * *

Draco returned home very late as a sexually frustrated, horny, wet, cold, and grumpy blond. 

When Potter looked up from his book to nod a greeting and caught the generalized glare at the world that Draco was emitting, he quickly looked away.

Draco slammed the door shut and stomped past Harry and straight into the bathroom, deciding a very hot shower was exactly what he needed. He almost yelped as the scalding water hit his skin; pinpricks of pain running up and down his body. Soon, though, he relaxed, and let all the tension ease out of his muscles.

When he emerged from the bathroom, it took him a moment to see anything, as a cloud of steam followed him out. He had a towel wrapped tightly around his waist, and his hands held his sopping wet clothes, that he happened to be charming dry as he walked across the room.

"Get caught in the thunderstorm that just hit?" Potter asked casually, flipping a page of a very familiar book.

Draco set his dry clothes on the top of his dresser and sat down on his bed, facing Potter. "Yes. Just as I was coming out of the alley nearby. Didn't want the Muggles to think it was weird that I was walking around not getting wet when I didn't have an umbrella." He leaned back on his hands. "Isn't that my book?"

"Yes," Potter replied.

"Do you like it?"

Potter shrugged. "It's better than potion texts. Kind of bizarre, actually, considering we do stuff like this all the time."

"Yeah. But that's what I like about it. It keeps me sharp."

"It's a Muggle book, Malfoy."

"So? Muggles, I will actually admit, can be quite clever when they don't have magic to cover up their tracks."

Potter hummed in agreement, and after a moment of still silence, he finally set the book down. "I'm sorry about this morning, Malfoy."

"Why are you sorry, Potter? I was the one in the bathroom while you were obliviously taking a shower."

"Yes, but I shouldn't have said some of the things I did."

"And I shouldn't have been in the bathroom."

Potter sighed. "I'm trying to apologise here."

"I know you are. I'm just… I'm tired of you always insinuating I'm some kind of male-whore. I don't sleep around, Potter. Not nearly as much as some of the guys I've probably slept with have."

Draco watched as a light blush infused Harry's cheeks. "I'm really sorry, Malfoy. You were right; I don't know you. Not really."

"You know more than you used to a few days ago."

"True."

"And I know more about you."

Potter ducked his head. "Yeah, I suppose you do."

Draco narrowed his gaze. "So, what'd you do today? I see you conjured those crutches."

Potter looked to the two wooden crutches that were wedged between his bed and the table. "Yeah. I really can't believe I didn't think of it before. Would have saved both of us a bunch of trouble."

Draco nodded and stood, moving over to his dresser. "Did you have fun jerking off in my ear this afternoon?" he asked with a self-satisfied smirk.

"What?" Potter squeaked, then cleared his throat and asked again. "What?"

Draco, smirk still intact, turned to level a look at Harry. "You forgot you were on comm, didn't you?"

If a blush had infused Harry's cheeks just moments before, it certainly had spread and deepened across his entire face, all the way up to his ears. "I…er…"

"Its okay, Potter," Draco shrugged, turning back to finding his pyjamas. "Though I do wish the sound had had picture." Deciding to be bold and push Potter just a little further, Draco dropped his towel where he stood, stretching his arms over his head as he slipped on a shirt, knowing that Potter was staring at his bare ass intently. He could practically _feel_ the green gaze. Then he bent down and stepped into his pyjama bottoms, turning ever so slightly as he pulled them up and over his slightly hard length. Turning all the way around to take in the shocked and almost…apoplectic expression on Potter's face, he said, "There. Now we're even. You've seen me naked."

Potter looked strangled for a second before looking away and muttering, "Not completely…"

"What's that, Potter? You think you didn't get a good enough show? I can strip again if you'd like." The look on Draco's face was predatory, but lazy, knowing he was hitting all the right spots. "You know, I went directly home and wanked the second I heard you going at it." When Harry's face snapped back around, Draco nodded. "Yes. I jerked off to your little moans and gasps, Potter."

Potter finally glared. "Stop it, Malfoy."

"Stop what?" the blond asked, flopping onto his bed and stretching languorously.

"Stop…trying to make me gay. I'm not going to sleep with you, or kiss you, or touch you, okay?"

Draco rolled over onto his side and propped his head on his hand. "I'm not expecting you to, Potter. I'm just wondering what got you so worked up that you started _jerking off_ five minutes after I was out the door."

"It's none of your business."

"Who was it? _Jamie_?" Draco said in a sickeningly sweet drawl.

"Why? Jealous?"

"Do you want me to be?" Draco shot back, rolling back to look at the ceiling. "Do you want me to want you, Potter? Do you want me to get jealous, so I can fight for your hand?"

"No, Malfoy, I don't. Just drop it, alright?"

"Whatever you want, princess," the blond said, moving up to pull the covers out from under him and settling into bed.

"I don't know why…" he heard Potter mutter.

"Don't know why what?"

Harry raised his voice, sounding harsh. "Why I actually felt bad for being an ass. Why I actually missed your company today." Harry turned off the light. "Goodnight, Malfoy."

* * *

A half-hour later, Harry was still awake, and he knew that Malfoy was too. He rolled over onto his back and said abruptly into the quiet: 

"Do you think Sameson is hot?"

There was a distinct pause, where Harry swore he heard Malfoy's semi-even breaths falter.

"Excuse me?" came the long drawl.

"You heard me, Malfoy."

"Actually, I was nearly asleep," he said as he rolled over to face Harry. "Thanks for waking me up."

"Do you think Sameson James is hot?" Harry asked again.

"What has that got to do with anything, Potter?"

"I want to know. From an actual gay man's perspective."

Harry heard Malfoy open his mouth, then close it, probably rethinking his answer.

Finally: "He's definitely better looking than most of the gay men out there."

"On a scale of one to ten."

"One being what?"

"Ugly."

"Ten being?"

"I don't know…gorgeous, hot, pretty, whatever you call guys that look really good!"

"Well, those words describe very different types of men, Harry. What would you classify Granger?"

Harry frowned, puzzled by the question. "I don't know…pretty, I guess. I don't think about her that way."

"And I don't think about James that way. So there's your answer."

"What, that he's 'pretty'?"

"No, Potter. That I don't give a flying fuck. He's fair-looking, okay? Now can we go back to sleep?"

"Neither of us was sleeping, Malfoy."

"Yeah, well, I almost was."

"You didn't really answer my question."

"Yes, I did."

"No. I want to know. If you had met him, outside of this case, would you have gone for him? Chatted him up or whatever?"

Harry was sure he felt a glare coming from the other bed. "You are highly annoying, has anyone ever told you that?"

"Only you, just now."

Malfoy sighed in frustration. "Maybe, okay?"

"Where do you think you are on the scale?"

At that, Malfoy scoffed. "Come on, Potter. Obviously fuck-me-on-the-dance-floor hot."

Harry had to laugh at Draco's brazen answer. "And…me? Where do I fit?"

Malfoy shifted in the other bed. "You're…a little harder to define, Potter."

"Meaning I'm ugly."

"I didn't say that!" Harry saw Malfoy's silhouette against the balcony curtains as he sat up. "You're just…well… I don't know. You can be a lot of things."

"Like what?" he asked quietly.

"Like… Like kind of annoying. Go to bed." Malfoy laid back down and Harry felt put out. He really wanted to know what Malfoy was going to say.

After a long silence, Harry whispered, "You can be a lot of things too, Malfoy."

"I know, Potter."

"Will you tell me? Someday?"

"Perhaps. Goodnight."

"G'night."

* * *

Harry woke a few hours later to a throbbing pain in his knee. Groaning, he rolled over, bending and unbending his leg, trying to get the pain to ease its way out of his body. 

"Ow…" he whispered, and blinked in the darkness. Looking over to Malfoy's side of the room, he noticed that the blond was not in his bed, and then saw the light in the bathroom.

Sitting up, Harry grabbed his crutches and hoisted himself up, balancing on one foot. He blearily made it over to the bathroom door, and had just stopped to knock when the door opened, blinding him, and Draco almost ran into him as he came out of the room and simultaneously turned off the light, blinding him again.

"Whoa," Malfoy said, putting his hands on Harry's hips. "You okay?"

Harry, still blinking away spots, nodded. "Er…yeah. I was just…coming to ask you where the salve was."

"Oh. Um…on the table. Is your knee hurting again?"

Harry tried to step back a bit. "Yes, it woke me up."

Draco still had a hold of his waist, but let go to step past him and retrieve the salve. "Go sit down. When was the last time you put some on?"

Harry hobbled back over to his bed, sitting down and tucking his crutches away again. "Er…when you did it yesterday…"

Malfoy, who had been walking over, stared at Harry. "What? That was nearly fourteen hours ago!"

"Well, it's not like you gave me an instruction manual," Harry growled.

Malfoy sat down on his right side and whispered _Lumos_, and his wand, which was laying on the nightstand, lit up, casting odd and cold shadows across both of their faces. Malfoy's face was a pale blue blurry shape to Harry. Setting the pot down next to Harry's hip, he automatically scooped up an ample portion, but looked up at Harry in hesitation. "Do you want me to, or…?"

Harry blinked. "Oh, er…yeah. That's fine. It felt…good, when you did it last time."

"It's not like I do anything special Potter, I just rub it into the skin." Malfoy started to gently apply the cream, but pulled away when Harry winced and jerked in pain. "I'm sorry, does that hurt?"

"Just a little."

"I'll be more careful." And he resumed smoothing the cream over the bulk of Harry's knee, using feather-light touches.

"Knowing me, I would have applied too much pressure and messed up my knee for good. Whatever the hell I did to it to make it this bad anyway," he muttered to himself.

"I probably kicked it or knelt on it or something when we were fighting. Potter, you really ought to put this stuff on every four hours, at least. It'll keep the swelling down. Not to mention heal the bruises, stop the pain, and heal the damage."

"I'm sorry, okay? I didn't even notice that it had started to hurt again…I was sorta busy getting mad at you."

Malfoy's eyes averted to his own lap. "I was acting like an arse, wasn't I?"

"Yes. Actually, you were teasing me."

Malfoy shrugged. "I do that sometimes. Got to get in a good flirt every now and again."

Harry rolled his eyes, deciding not to answer. "Mmm, that feels good," he murmured though, closing his eyes to half-mast.

Malfoy cleared his throat, causing Harry to open his eyes again. "The discolouration is already going away…that's good."

"No, I thought it was bad, Malfoy," Harry deadpanned.

"Shut up, Potter. This stuff seems to be pretty powerful, even though topical solutions are usually not as effective as solutions you imbibe, because getting it into your bloodstream is easier through your stomach than your skin."

Harry raised an eyebrow at the mini-lesson. "Good to know…"

"Yes, it is. But still, with this, I think you'll be ready to go dancing at Sinn on Friday. Though this sure is a waste of time…you could be practicing. You need it."

The dark-haired Auror ignored the jibe. "You really don't like him, do you?"

"Who? James?"

"Yeah."

"Of course I don't, Potter. He's a criminal. Though you wouldn't think so, with all the lack of criminal activity going on about him."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what if we have the wrong guy? I've been watching him for two days, Potter, and he doesn't do anything out of the ordinary. I managed to plant little bug charms around his pawn shop, and in his flat above it, and there's been nothing. He seems like a totally normal business man. Minus that conversation he had on the phone last week."

"Which one? He's always on his mobile."

"The one we heard in the diner. Remember? He was obviously talking about the artefact. This witch or wizard, whoever they are, must be desperate. Or very clever. And James must be a pretty big name for a wizard to be able to find him. There's just no other explanation for when James said, 'If you want out of whatever the hell you want to call yourself, and you want the _real_ money to do it, then you have to go through me'. It's too suspicious. But he doesn't seem to do any other illegal fencing."

"You have a pretty good memory, you know that?"

"Lift your knee a little. Yes. I know I do. You have to, in this business."

"Yeah, I suppose you do."

"Okay, there. You're all done." Malfoy started to take his hands away from Harry's knee, but Harry impulsively put a hand over his own.

"Uh…Potter-"

Harry took Draco's hand and held it up. "You have rather nice hands," he said absently, ignoring the other man's discomfort.

Malfoy was already leaning forward, so when Harry pulled a little on his hand to look at it more closely in the dim light, he automatically shifted forward to prevent from falling over. The movement took Harry away from his musings and he looked at Draco, who was now much closer than he had been.

"Um…Potter…you have my hand."

"Oh! Yes, here," said Harry, dropping it, suddenly realising how close Draco was.

But Malfoy didn't move. Harry could feel the man's breath, hot on his lips, but he didn't move. He just sat there, staring at Harry intently.

"What're you doing?" Harry said in a rush.

The blond pulled away suddenly, grabbing the pot of cream and sealing it again to prevent it from drying out. He stood, hopping off the end of the bed and going to set the salve on the table. "Nothing," he said. "You're all done now. We should go back to bed, or we'll be sleeping all day again."

Harry felt a flush build on his cheeks, and wondered where it came from. "I just need to use the loo," he said, and grabbed his crutches and quickly made it into the other room.

Oh, god, he was hard. And he really didn't know why. It couldn't really be Malfoy rubbing the salve in, though that did really feel good, Harry thought back. They had managed to have a conversation, which seemed to have distracted Harry long enough that he didn't pay attention to the wonderful feeling of Malfoy's fingers on his skin, and up his thigh, and oh – _god_ –

Harry set his crutches against the counter and leaned against the wall across from the toilet, taking himself out and jerking off in quick, harsh strokes. It was only a little bit of stimulation, but it did the trick, and he was thinking about seeing Malfoy before bed, when he'd been naked, and Harry had gotten just the tiniest glimpse of Malfoy. And there was all that creamy skin…

_fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_

Harry came, gasping Draco's name quietly, over and over again, feeling as if he were going to cry. What he didn't know, was that at that same moment, Malfoy was lying in his bed having his own quick wank session, thinking everything he could about Harry.

* * *

Malfoy said he'd see Harry at the club – but now Harry was wondering just how he was going to find the blond. Original Sinn was _packed_, and not in that normal, it's a Friday night, end of the week, let's unwind sort of way. Like…there must have been some sort of birthday party or theme party or something going on…because Harry could hardly breathe, and had nearly gotten his glasses knocked off a few times just trying to get through the entry way. 

Jamie had picked him up on his bike, and had definitely grabbed Harry's ass as he hugged him upon seeing him in his, or rather, _Malfoy's_ very tight, sleeveless, blue-turned-red top and black jeans, which were also rather tight. Harry had, of course, complained when he put them on, but Malfoy insisted that tonight was the night to go in for "the kill", so to speak – to get Sameson to show Harry the artefact, and where he kept it, so they could figure out a way to get it back and arrest the dark and tall man. And the way to do that was to make him want to take Harry home. Malfoy had even suggested spiking his drink with Veritaserum, but Harry refused, saying he only would if he were desperate to find the artefact.

Harry cried out as he lost his grip on Jamie's hand, but felt relief as a hand connected with his and he was finally pulled through the crowd to the bar, falling into his "boyfriend's" arms.

"Oh, thank god, I thought we'd never make it out of there."

James chuckled in his ear. "It's all going down into the dance floor and the rooms beyond."

"There are other rooms here?" Harry asked, pulling away and looking up at him.

"Yeah. You didn't know that?" When Harry shook his head he replied, "Maybe I'll have to give you a tour sometime."

Harry wrinkled his nose, not wanting to think about it. "I'd rather go to your place."

Sameson quirked an eyebrow, then his eyes brightened. "Let's dance!" he said, and he pulled Harry towards the crowd on the dance floor.

"I think I need a few drinks in me to do that!" Harry replied, tugging back.

Sameson rolled his eyes but took Harry to go get a few drinks. He got some kind of wine cooler, because it tasted like strawberries, and his date rolled his eyes again and ordered a beer before taking Harry's free hand and leading him to the edge of the bar on the far side, leaning on the railing divider of the stairs to watch the fun going on.

It was definitely some sort of party, Harry thought, watching all the people, men mostly, writhe to the pounding beat of the music. It was centring around this one blond – but Harry didn't see any birthday type of décor or presents anywhere…

"Hey! That's the guy from dinner the other night! The same guy who hit on me!" Jamie suddenly yelled, pointing to the blond in the centre of the ring of dancers. "I was right!"

Harry's eyes widened as he looked back over and saw Draco Malfoy of all people, riling up all the people, dancing like there was no tomorrow.

No. No _way_.

"Him? He's the one that hit on you?" Harry asked, feeling a little weak. What was Malfoy _doing_?

"Why, do you know him?"

"No, I just…wouldn't have figured he was gay," Harry lied through his teeth.

"Yeah, that's him. He was at the restaurant, remember?"

"Vaguely…"

"Come on, let's go dance!" Sameson yelled, slamming back the rest of his beer and taking Harry's from him and setting them both on the steps. Harry had barely a second to contemplate how irresponsible and dangerous that was before Sameson grabbed his hands and dragged him down the stairs, pushing into the crowd.

He pulled Harry against him and started to move, rubbing their bodies together, and putting his hands around Harry's waist and around his back. Harry automatically put his arms around Sameson's neck, bending his knees and moving his hips with the other man. His knee only twinged with pain a little bit, and he was glad he had Malfoy put some more salve on right before he left.

"Hey! I remember you!" Harry heard behind him, and looked over his shoulder to see Malfoy dancing next to them, looking at James.

"Yeah," Jamie said disinterestedly.

"Who's this here? Cheating on me already?" Malfoy flirted.

From under Jamie's chin, Harry sent Malfoy a pointed look. It said, "_What on Merlin's Great Bloody Earth are you doing?!_"

"This is my boyfriend," Jamie said, and Harry felt his arms tighten around his shoulders.

"Boyfriend? When did you two meet?"

"The same night you hit on me."

"Wow, so quick to move on… You wouldn't mind if I took him for a spin on the dance floor, would you, dark, handsome stranger?"

Jamie glared. "Any particular reason why?"

Malfoy raised his arms up in the air. "I'm the birthday boy; I should get everything I want tonight!"

Harry was caught off-guard for a moment. _If it was Malfoy's birthday, why didn't he say anything? Wait a minute…isn't his birthday in June? It's May…_ Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation, and waited for Jamie's answer.

James looked at Malfoy…quirking his eyebrow. "You wouldn't be trying to steal him from me, would you? I see you have penchant for us dark and handsome strangers."

"No, no!" Malfoy said, waving his hands around in some weird gesture. "It's all perfectly innocent. I'd just like to dance."

"Do you mind, Harry? It is his birthday, after all," Jamie said to him with a roll of his eyes.

Harry shrugged. "If you don't, it's fine."

"Alright then!" Malfoy exclaimed, grabbing Harry by the hand and pulling him across the dance floor, only to take him in his arms in a similar fashion that Sameson had.

"Malfoy!" Harry whispered. "What the fuck are you doing? It's not your birthday!"

"Oh, I know that, Potter. I just needed to get you away from him for a minute."

"Where'd all these people come from, Malfoy, and why do they all seem to love you?"

"These people?" Malfoy asked, gesturing to the bodies around them, "They're my friends."

"Your friends." It wasn't really a question so much as a statement of incredulity.

"Yes, Potter. I have some gay Muggle friends. Please try not to have a heart attack."

"Sorry, I just…how'd they get here? Did you invite them?"

"No, actually. They were waiting in line when I arrived, and I got them in with me. Surely you heard me on comm?"

Harry sighed, clenching his fists in Malfoy's shirt a little. "You've got to stop using Imperius on the bouncer, Malfoy."

"Yeah, yeah. Ooh… James looks like the jealous type, if the glare he's giving me is anything to go by." Malfoy laughed and tucked his face into Harry's neck, catching him by surprise with shivers of pleasure. "Turn and give him a smile, Potter, so he doesn't get the wrong idea."

Harry turned a little and looked over his shoulder, spotting James against the wall, and smiled at him with a little wave, receiving a smile in return.

"Anyhow, I just wanted to let you know that I'm still paying attention to you and James, even though my friends are here, okay?" Malfoy said, bringing Harry's attention back around to him.

"Er…okay. Whatever, Malfoy."

"You're impossible, Potter."

"And you're what? Easy?" Harry jibed, smiling at the bit of shock on Malfoy's face.

Malfoy glared as Harry laughed at his expense, twirling Harry around and pushing him towards Sameson, just as the song was ending. "I'm sorry!" Harry said, smiling, but quickly lost that smile when Malfoy slapped him hard on the ass and yelled to James,

"This one's a keeper, Stranger! Come find me if you ever want a third!"

Harry turned to stare at Malfoy, but the blond had already disappeared into the crowd. Rubbing his bum, he made his way back over to his date, who was leaning against the railing again.

Sameson pulled him close and put his arms around him. "Have fun?" he asked.

Harry shrugged. "He's an interesting bloke."

"Did you find out his name?"

"No, I didn't bother."

"Well, as long as you know you're mine, I don't much care what that guy thinks."

Harry frowned. "Yeah…"

"Come on. I didn't really get to dance with you."

"Okay."

Harry allowed Jamie to pull him back onto the dance floor. Feeling a little uneasy and not knowing why, Harry danced with the taller man, allowing him to pull Harry closer. Harry was getting sweaty quickly – the amount of bodies and the friction of his chest against Jamie's was making the breath in his lungs catch in the back of his throat.

Then his hands were back on Harry's hips, and he was pulling him closer and Harry could feel his arousal, and he felt himself harden in response. _Oh no…_ he thought, and bit his lip in way that made Jamie growl in his ear. Jamie's growl was followed by hot kisses on Harry's neck, and he couldn't help but whimper in this throat; it felt so good.

"**_Potter? You okay?"_** came Malfoy's worried whisper.

"Yeah-" Harry gasped, getting lost in the sensation and the beat of the music, and Jamie's large, warm body against him and all around him…

Sameson finally abandoned Harry's neck and started attacking his mouth, and Harry got lost again, never feeling so totally helpless to another person's affections, and wanting it to never end.

Breaking free for air, Harry found himself looking up dazedly into Sameson's serious face, and was then pulled by the waist to an unoccupied part of the dark wall next to the bar, free from other couples or lurkers. Sameson shoved him somewhat harshly against the wall and started snogging him again, tilting Harry's head back with a hand on his chin, just as passionate as before, if not rougher.

Jamie stopped this time, looking at Harry's debauched appearance before kissing his cheek, neck and ear, whispering hotly, "God, I want you, Harry."

Harry cleared his throat and asked, "You do?"

"_Yes_," Jamie said with passion, pressing Harry into the wall with his body. "I want to be inside of you, and I want you all around me, hot and tight and perfect."

Harry didn't know how to react; he had never had anyone say things like that to him before, and he didn't want to think of the strange ache he suddenly had in his rear end and what it meant. So he did the only thing he could think of, and grabbed Jamie's face and kissed him, hard, hoping that it conveyed the message Jamie was expecting.

Jamie pulled back quickly. "Bathroom," he said, taking Harry's hand and pulling him through the crowd and up through the bar to the front of the club where the restrooms were located.

Harry's heart leapt into his throat, but not necessarily in a pleasant way. Sameson wasn't going to fuck him the loo, was he? Because Harry knew a few good wandless hexes he could use if Sameson went anywhere near his bum with his dick.

Then that weird ache pulsed down there again, and he wondered if maybe he didn't want Sameson's dick near his bum.

Harry grimaced. He didn't want to lose his…gay virginity or whatever to a criminal in a dirty loo in a gay club.

Assuming he wanted to lose anything to a guy in the first place. Harry was hoping to bypass the thought of him being gay by just focusing on the case and how kissing a guy and liking it when he hadn't been with anyone in such a long time didn't make him gay.

Really. It didn't.

Jamie found an empty stall, surprisingly, and pulled Harry into it before closing and locking the door. He ignored words for actions, pushing Harry against the wobbly metal wall between their stall and the next, kissing him and putting his hands under his shirt and touching his bare skin.

Harry arched and moaned, starting to feel lost again, until Jamie started undoing the fly of Harry's jeans, and his eyes snapped open and he sucked in a breath.

"Jamie…"

Jamie pulled back and looked into Harry's eyes. "Are you okay with this?" His gaze pleaded for the answer 'yes'.

"I…" Harry hesitated, swallowing. "Yeah, I just…um…not sex. Not here. It's…dirty."

Jamie nodded seriously then smiled with a mischievous glint in his eye. "I like dirty." Harry felt laughter bubble up in his throat and wound up chuckling in embarrassment. "Does this mean I can't suck you off?" Jamie asked, nibbling on Harry's earlobe.

"Er…if you really want to…" Harry said, his wide eyes roaming the painted black ceiling and wondering what the fuck was going on.

Malfoy's voice came in, with a twinge of jealousy and a lot of ice. **_"My last bit of advice to you for the night, Potter. Try not to act like a straight man. Or a virgin. You'll embarrass me, and you'll blow it."_**

Harry had no idea what to think about that, since he couldn't respond, so he didn't.

Jamie kissed his neck, moving down to his collar, then bent to kiss Harry's chest, yanking up on his tight shirt to expose skin. He nibbled on Harry's right nipple, and Harry's eyes rolled back and his fingers scrabbled on the smooth metal of the stall wall behind him. When Jamie reached his jeans, he finished opening them and swiftly took Harry's hard length in his hand, grinning with feral intent before leaning forward and taking him into his mouth.

Harry snapped his head back up, half in pleasure and half in panic.

_Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god… I'm getting a blow job from a guy in a loo!_

James was _good_. That was the only coherent thought at that moment in Harry's mind, other than near-blind panic at the situation. It felt too good not to be real, he thought, and _oh fuck_, he was enjoying it. It was hot, and wet, and _so_ much better than jerking off any day. And the man knew how it was done.

A spike of pleasure lanced his groin and his left hand shot out to grab onto the top of the door, and he found himself moaning and gasping loudly, adding to the cacophony of the atmosphere. It was so amazing, and he couldn't help but feel that it was right somehow, in some way, that the situation – him with a guy getting a blow job in a dirty gay loo – wasn't as wrong as he thought it was supposed to be, but he couldn't think on it long, because Jamie was sucking_ hard_, and _oh FUCK_, that felt _good_...so good…oh god…yes, yes, yes…Jam-Jamie –

He hadn't realised he had been talking out loud until he'd come, and regaining what consciousness he could from nearly blacking out, he was still moaning slightly and breathing harshly, and Jamie was putting him away and standing, breathing hard himself and looking red-mouthed and smiling and whispering in his ear, _"You're a talker, Harry, I can tell."_

Harry smiled lazily, and let Jamie kiss his head and rub his hands all over his body.

"Oh, I want you, Harry. I want you _bad_."

"What?" asked Harry, still trying to get his mental and emotional bearings.

Sameson took Harry's left hand from where it still clutched the door and pressed his palm firmly against his own erection. "You're doing this to me, Harry. I want you. All of you."

"Oh god," Harry groaned, closing his eyes and swallowing.

"Let's go to my place," Sameson suggested.

"Al-alright," Harry agreed, accepting the messy kiss James gave him before opening the door and leading him to the coat check-in.

_Oh my god, what's happening…?_

"_Malfoy, we're going to his place… Will you come stand by for backup?"_

Silence.

"_Malfoy?"_ Harry whispered again. _"Malfoy?!"_ he whispered more fiercely.

Harry slipped on his jacket and followed Sameson out to his bike.

_Oh shit. Oh _shit._ Fuck…Draco, where are you? Why'd you cut off the comm?_

With something akin to dread, Harry jumped on the bike with James, speeding off to some unfamiliar destination, hoping the wand tucked into his sock wouldn't be needed later.

* * *

_**Thank you for the support! Please review!**_


	5. Chapter Five: Lust

**WRITTEN FOR THE TWO BROOMSTICKS FALL FIC-A-THON **

**Summary: **Harry and Draco had a mission. It was simple. Find out who stole the artefact, and get it back from the Muggle fencing it. Not as simple as it sounds, when you both hate each other with a passion, and the Muggle starts falling for your straight partner, who you need to help handle the Muggle Gay Scene. And what happens when you start falling for him too?

**Warnings: **Some swearing, and **fairly graphic sexual situations. ****This is a cleaner version - the original is at my website, which is linked on my user page. Thank you. **Post-HPB, post-war. Multi-chapter…around seven or so.

**Prompt: **_HP/DM. "Everything is working out according to the plan and that IS the effing problem!!" Post-war. Harry and Draco are Aurors/cops and have to work on a mission together. Part of said mission consists in catching some bad guy to get something from him. In order to do so, it is decided that Harry would seduce him and gain his trust. The guy starts falling for Harry, but he's not the only one... Draco does too. How will he deal with the newfound attraction?_

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, and all associated characters from the Harry Potter universe are the property of J.K. Rowling and those to whom she has licensed her creations, including without limitation Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No copyright infringement is intended. The author of this fic and the website maintainers are making no profit from this story or any of the site's contents.

**A/N: **_Well, first of all, let me apologise for getting this out so late - I had a bit of a problem with writer's block (and I even got to have a social life -whoo!) and one of my betas lost power, so there was a delay there as well. But! I have the chapter out - that's the important thing, right?  
_

_I want to thank my betas - **Michelle**, **IcyAurora8**, and **Omi**. They really helped me a lot with this chapter, as it's a pretty big one, in terms of plot...and OTHER THINGS._

_Speaking of other things, this chapter has some sexual content. Nothing graphic, because everything that's graphic, I cut out. That's right, if you want the **FULL **chapter, you have to go to my website, via my userpage. I cut about two pages, so, if you don't mind reading that stuff, and you're of legal age (please don't get me into trouble here, folks), then please go read it there. But feel free to review here or email me! I really want to know what you guys think... I think this is a GREAT chapter...in my humble authoress opinion. :P_

_In one last bit of words before I let you go, I will be putting OS on a temporary halt while I write several holiday-related chapters of "The Bet". I'm hoping to at least get most of them out before New Years, or around there. We'll see. I think I've got about six chapters to write, but the first three are short. I'll probalby be uploading them in batches._

_ Anyhow, enough of me, here's the chapter!  
_

* * *

**Chapter V – Lust**

* * *

After leaving Harry with his "boyfriend" and a sore bum, Draco sought out his friend Bradley, one of his more attractive yet geeky friends, whom he kept around to keep people from hitting on him. It was especially useful on nights when he just wanted to have a little fun with his friends. Bradley knew exactly what Draco was doing, and didn't mind; in fact, the great thing about being friends with Draco was that he made the people around him more attractive, and therefore, Bradley got laid a lot more often than before he had met Draco. 

And Draco knew that Bradley had once harboured a crush on him. Most of his friends had, at one point or another, but Draco wouldn't allow any sort of anything to happen with any of them – he valued their friendship far too much to ruin it like that. Like he had thought earlier; fucking friends made things messy.

So, when he found Bradley, he was dancing with John, Michael and Preston, his other some-what geeky friends, and quickly took a hold of Bradley's arm and led him into a more private dance, wrapping his arms around the even taller man.

Bradley rolled his eyes, recognising one of Draco's moods and going with it; holding the man closely, though more in comfort than in attraction.

"So, what's wrong now?" Bradley asked into Draco's ear.

"Wrong? There's nothing wrong."

"I know you better than you think, Draco."

"Kiss me, Bradley."

"What?"

"I need you to kiss me. There's a creepy guy watching us."

Bradley rolled his eyes again, knowing there was no such person. "Okay, Draco, whatever you want." Draco tilted his head up, but Bradley leaned back. "As long as you tell me the real reason you need some uncomplicated affection."

Draco sighed. "It's complicated."

"Does it have anything to do with that guy you were just dancing with who was a Brad-replica?"

"What? Brad-replica? No, no, no. Potter does _not_ look like you, Bradley. He's nothing like you at all. He's much more annoying, and you're much classier."

"Dark hair, glasses…devastatingly cute…you're not seeing the resemblance?" Bradley said with a smile.

Draco smiled, leaning forward. "You're still classier."

"So you _do_ think he's devastatingly cute."

Draco pouted, leaning back again, sans-kiss. "Maybe."

Bradley smiled and finally kissed Draco, tilting the blonde's head back. Bradley certainly was a good kisser, and if Draco ever needed to feel loved or was just maybe a little horny or feeling particularly affectionate, he could always turn to Bradley, who was hardly ever attached (to everyone's surprise) and he could get what he needed, usually no questions asked. Though kissing was really all Draco would allow himself, even if he were very drunk, and Bradley always settled him down if he wanted more. So now Draco was feeling pleasantly distracted from his own jealousy when he heard a distinct whimper in his ear. He broke away from the kiss, gasping. Pressing a finger into his ear he said quickly and quietly, "Potter? You okay?"

The gasped "yeah" that he heard put a frown on his face and he stepped away from Bradley, pushing through the crowd to get to higher ground. He stepped into the bar, finding a spot against a bit of railing, searching the crowd of gyrating bodies for Harry.

He found him quickly, on the far outside of the mass of bodies, getting snogged passionately by the _Muggle_. He felt an immediate flicker of the jealousy from before in the pit of his stomach, and his nostrils flared with hatred at James.

Bradley came up next to him. "He's your partner, isn't he?"

Draco nodded. "The shorter one. Potter."

"And that man is your case, isn't he?"

Draco looked oddly at him. "I never should have told I was a detective. Now you're always too curious about my job." He looked back to Harry, watching as James pushed Harry willingly against the wall and whispered suggestive things to him.

Draco knew it was stupid of him to be so possessive, but seeing Harry so thoroughly debauched turned him on…and made him so angry. It should have been _him_ kissing Harry… and touching Harry. So no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't ignore the overwhelming urge to go wrench James away and hex him into oblivion.

Bradley's hand on his shoulder grounded him, pulling back his desires to severely hurt his case. He couldn't hurt James, or approach him and Harry – it'd ruin the whole case, and Harry was _so close_ to breaking it. Draco knew that Harry could get the information they'd need to obtain the artefact and catch the wizard behind its disappearance tonight, if he played his cards right.

Draco ducked back into the crowd as he saw Harry and James come his direction, headed for the bathrooms. Bradley followed him dutifully, sitting down next to him in a recently vacated booth, putting an arm around his shoulders. Draco shrugged it off, folding his hands on the table and glaring at a scratch on the neon Plexiglas surface like it had personally offended him.

"Draco. Love. You like this Potter guy a lot, don't you?" Bradley asked, leaning into Draco's side.

"He's not even _gay,_ Bradley," Draco replied loudly, trying to drown out the noises Potter was making in his ear.

Bradley got a strange look on his face. "Then what the-"

"It's all pretend, Brad. It's all just _fucking_ pretend!" Draco growled, pulling his hands through his hair and to the back of his neck, keeping his head down and feeling very sick as James asked Harry if he could suck his cock.

_Oh fuck, I think I'm gonna be sick all over this table…_

Steeling his voice, he kept his head down and said lowly, "My last bit of advice to you for the night, Potter. Try not to act like a straight man. Or a virgin. You'll embarrass me, and you'll blow it." Then he whispered _Finite Incantatum_ and snapped off the comm, quite aware that Potter probably hadn't heard him the entire time James' tongue had been down his throat. But he just couldn't take Potter's noises anymore.

"Could you hear what was going on in there?" Bradley asked, "With your invisible listening device?"

"It's called a comm, Bradley, and it's in my ear, you just can't see it. And yes, to answer your question, so I turned it off."

"What if he gets in trouble? Shouldn't you still be in communication with him?"

"Potter can take care of himself," Draco said darkly. "I need a stiff drink."

"Got one right here, mate," John said, and Draco looked up to see his other three friends standing at the table, all with drinks in their hands.

Draco took his drink from Preston, nodding in thanks to the tall, midnight-coloured man, who had deep black eyes and a brilliant white smile. Preston was the more serious one out of the group, being a doctor or something important or another, and he always dressed with impeccable adult taste – never one to just throw something on and look like a completely gay twink with no fashion sense. He was most definitely _classy_.

John, Preston and Michael all slid into the booth around Draco and Bradley. John gave Bradley his own drink, and then proceeded to babble about a hot guy he had just been dancing with.

"Then why are you over here, sitting with us and not getting shagged in the back room?" Draco asked, taking a gulp of his blissfully alcoholic drink.

John shot Draco a confused look. "Because you're my friend. And you're obviously down and out 'bout something – that's more important than getting laid, Draco."

Draco looked away from John's straight face, with his soft blue eyes, and longer golden brown hair, suddenly glad that all of his friends were there. It was comforting in a way that Draco couldn't describe right then.

_Fuck Potter_. If he wanted to leap off the cliff of homosexuality, then he could bloody-well do it without Draco.

"So, what's bothering you, Draco?" Michael asked, looking over his beer at the blond with almost amber-coloured eyes. "It must be big if you got Brad here to snog you again."

"It's just this stupid case I'm working on," Draco said, glaring at the brunet with the hawk's eyes for his comment about Bradley.

"And his stupid partner," Bradley put in, ignoring Draco's icy glare swinging his way. "That was the guy he was dancing with earlier."

The men around the table all nodded in understanding. "He was cute," John said, ever the walking hard-on.

"I told Draco that he was obviously trying to replace me," smirked Bradley, looking at Draco and putting his arm back around the glowering blond.

Eventually, Draco sighed, leaning against Brad's side heavily. Preston laid his dark hand against his pale arm in a reassuring gesture. "It'll be alright, little one," he said. "I'm sure that your case will work out, and your partner will get what he deserves."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Don't call me little. I'm six foot. You're six foot four."

"Yes, but you're still our 'little one'."

"Oh please, just because I'm the youngest-"

"Stop arguing, Drake," Bradley cut in. "You're our youngest member, get over it. We like to watch out for you."

"I hate it when you call me 'Drake'." Draco then snorted, thinking about Brad's last comment. _If only they knew…_ "And I can bloody-well take care of myself, okay?"

"Yes dear," John said patronisingly, leaning across Bradley to smack a kiss onto Draco's forehead.

"Agh!" yelled Draco, sitting up and rubbing at his skin. "Don't _do_ that!" He turned to the man sitting on his right. "And for your information Preston, the only thing Potter deserves is to be analy raped by that stupid asshole in his 'completely' straight arse."

"He's straight?" John asked, looking crestfallen.

"Supposedly. I was hoping to change his mind," Draco added, leaning back into Bradley.

"I'm confused," Michael said, always the quiet, thoughtful one. "You were dancing with him, here, at a gay club and he's _straight_?"

"Long story," Draco said, closing his eyes.

"Aw…our baby's tired. We should get him out of here," Bradley said, kissing Draco on the head.

"But it's still early!" John whined. "And we came all the way out here!"

"I'll stay with you, John," Michael offered.

"No," Draco said forcefully, opening his eyes and sitting up. "I'm not going anywhere." He shifted in the rounded booth, nudging Preston out with a light push. Preston complied, letting Draco out. He stood, slammed back his drink and said, "Screw it. Potter can look out for his own arse. Let James keep the fuckin' thing." Then he pulled Bradley out of the booth too, saying, "Come on, Bradley. Dance with me."

Draco then pretended to forget about Potter, the case, and anything else that took him away from him and his friends dancing together and drinking together, and the thumpa-thumpa of the gay life midnight grind.

* * *

Harry's heart fluttered nervously the whole ride to Sameson's flat. He couldn't contain his anxiety over being totally alone with a man who was capable of who-knew-what. He felt like Draco had utterly abandoned him – Oh, was that arsehole going to get a telling off when he got back to the hotel. Talk about hypocritical. 

Now, it wasn't as if Harry didn't feel he could defend himself if he had to – he'd been doing it long before Draco had entered the picture. But what if Sameson had used the artefact, and was just hiding it well? He was smart – who knew what was really going on?

Sooner than Harry would have liked, the motorbike pulled up to a darkened building, with a few big windows and a glass door, complete with a "closed" sign, the pawnshop hours, and shades to block the valuables inside from view after dark.

As the engine revved down and turned off, Harry got off the bike and took off his helmet; observing the block. It was relatively quiet, with a few cars rolling past on their way home. The street had a few scattered businesses, all dark. Harry looked at the pawnshop for the first time, thinking about possible escape routes. Unfortunately, there wasn't much to see from the pavement.

Jamie parked the bike and took Harry's helmet from him, taking his own off and smiling up at his building. "So this is home – do you like it?"

Harry smiled, trying not to look as nervous as he felt. "I haven't seen the inside yet."

Jamie laughed. "Come on then; let's get you upstairs." He grabbed the handlebars of his bike and started pushing it, up onto the curb.

Harry followed him past the front of the store and around the corner to the side of the building, where a metal door stood. Jamie unlocked this door; both the handle and the bolt lock, and opened it, pushing his bike inside. Harry came in right after, and found himself in a dimly lit entry way, mostly filled with the bike that Jamie was chaining to a fixture on the wall, and a long, narrow wooden staircase, reaching up to a landing with another door.

Jamie finished locking up his bike and set the helmets on the seat, taking Harry's hand and leading him up the stairs. "This is basically the main entrance, but there's another one just behind the front counter of the shop," he said, by way of some explanation.

"Oh," was all Harry could think to say, and he watched as James unlocked this new door, holding it open and letting Harry step over the threshold. It was dark, but not for long; James flicked on a light, and Harry was standing in a small alcove looking into a modest kitchen, past which he could see a darkened living room.

"It's not much," James started, watching Harry's face.

Harry immediately turned to him, smiling. "I like it."

Smiling in return, Jamie took off his leather jacket, placing it on a hook behind Harry. He then helped Harry out of his jacket, and Harry felt his nervousness come back when Jamie breathed on his neck and kissed it.

"I've been hard this whole time, you know," the other man said, and Harry knew his cheeks were turning pink. "Riding the bike all the way here, thinking about what I want to do to you…"

Swallowing was difficult, but somehow, Harry managed. "And what do you want to do to me?"

"All _kinds_ of things, Harry," Jamie said, sliding his hands around Harry's slim waist from behind.

"Don't you want to show me the rest of your flat? Or the pawnshop? You know how I said I like strange artefacts and antiques…have you gotten anything like that recently?"

Jamie chuckled and turned Harry around. "Are you avoiding me, Harry?"

A new flush come over Harry's cheeks and he said, "Er…"

Jamie's smile grew soft. "Am I your first?"

"No!" Harry exclaimed, perhaps a little too quickly. "No, er….it's just…I haven't been in a whole lot of relationships…actually, I've been in about one. I'm just nervous, that's all."

"I'm not going to hurt you, Harry."

"I know," Harry replied, not believing it. "I'm just…you know…not sure. A-about…where this is going."

The look on Jamie's face was partially amused, and partially confused, but instead of replying, he leaned down and kissed Harry softly on the lips. His heart beating wildly, Harry kissed him back, closing his eyes after a moment to try and clear his head of its cobwebs.

But it wasn't really working. Jamie was still kissing him slowly, but he was pressing harder, deepening it and tilting Harry's head back, pushing his hands through Harry's thick hair. It felt good. Too good. Harry knew he had to keep a clear head, and getting snogged and touched was not helping with that goal.

Once again, he mentally cursed Draco for being a great, big prat.

Jamie, still kissing Harry, started pushing the shorter man back, through the hardwood floored kitchen, to the carpeted living room. Harry's knees hit the armrest of the couch, and he broke away, glancing back before looking up at Jamie.

_Oh my god…I'm not going to have to sleep with him to get the information I want, am I?_

Jamie pulled off his own shirt, and finally, Harry saw just what his bare chest and arms looked like. As if he couldn't help himself, Harry reached out his hand and touched the warm skin, and saw Jamie's muscle flex slightly under his touch.

Jamie's hand covered his, holding it against his chest as he leaned down and started kissing Harry again. Harry slid his bare arms around Jamie's neck, pulling down, which resulted in them toppling back onto the couch, laughing and chuckling, because they had landed in such a strange position.

Harry pushed himself up and back, lying out on the sofa, then watched as Jamie crawled up to lay on top of him, slowly lowering his weight down. Harry could feel his erection now, and it was maybe a little weird, but he could also feel his own pressing back, and the intoxicating heat of a larger body on top of his, and it was okay.

"Kiss me," Harry found himself saying, not even thinking about where it might be coming from.

Jamie complied, resting the remainder of his weight on top of Harry, his elbows the only thing holding him up as he leaned down to kiss Harry slowly. His hands rested near Harry's head, and he could feel Jamie idly playing with strands of his hair as they kissed. Harry put his hands on Jamie's sides, and he could tell that his hands were colder than he thought, because Jamie's skin burned and the man twitched slightly beneath his fingertips. Soon, his fingers warmed up, and Harry smoothed his hands over Jamie's back, feeling the soft skin, and the strong shoulders, and Harry felt a thrill he couldn't deny anymore; he most definitely was enjoying this. With a man.

_But what about sex with a man?_ A part of him asked.

Jamie had moved on to his ear and neck, and Harry had a hard time focusing on that thought.

As Jamie shifted down, Harry automatically parted his knees a little, allowing for Jamie's body to slide between them. Jamie's left hand snuck underneath Harry's tight shirt, and started pushing it up, leaning away from Harry's body as he exposed more and more skin. Jamie's mouth latched on to Harry's left nipple, and Harry arched up, crying out softly, wondering when he had become like such a girl. Being with Ginny had never been like this – Harry had never felt like giving himself over so freely.

But he wasn't, he reminded himself. He couldn't. Sameson James was a case, not a boyfriend.

But Harry still hoped he'd move on to the other nipple soon.

As Jamie moved down farther, Harry moved his hands up and over his shoulders, playing lightly with Jamie's longer hair.

"Am I taking too long, Harry?"

"Hmm…what? Too long? Umm...no…not too long…" he murmured, focusing on the tingling feeling in his belly.

Jamie suddenly moved up, lying back down again against Harry's chest, and now Harry could feel Jamie's hot skin directly on his. Jamie smiled, and kissed Harry with sudden hunger, grinding his arousal into Harry, right between his legs.

Harry moaned loudly, caught by surprise, but not unhappy because of it. Everything was feeling so good, and Jamie's hands were now on _his_ sides, and no small part of him shivered in response. His own arms tightened around Jamie's neck, and then Jamie ground down again, and broke off, saying harshly in Harry's ear as he continued to rub against him,

"I want you, Harry. I know I keep saying that, but it's true. I want you so badly; all around me…I want to be inside of you. Please, say you'll let me."

Again, Harry felt that strange ache very close to where Jamie was grinding now, and didn't know how to respond. "I-"

"Say you'll let me feel you."

Suddenly, another ache was felt, and Harry blurted out, "I have to use the bathroom!"

Jamie jerked back, stunned. "What?"

"I…er…could you show me where your toilet is? You're, er...pressing on my bladder. I think that one drink I had ran through me already," Harry said, sheepishly looking away.

Overcoming his shock, Jamie started laughing, his head dropping back down to Harry's ear. "You _are_ my virgin little school-teacher, aren't you?" he said, nuzzling Harry's ear.

"What?! No! I just…need to use the loo…"

Jamie raised his head, smiling. "I swear if you weren't so adorable I'd have dropped you for someone a little more willing."

Harry frowned. "That wasn't very nice…"

Jamie kissed him quickly on the lips. "I wasn't trying to be mean." Jamie started to stand. "But to be honest, Harry, you do seem awfully nervous. It's endearing, don't get me wrong, but if there's something wrong, you can tell me." He helped Harry stand. "You're clean right?"

"Huh? Clean?" Harry asked, realising the meaning behind the question before he even finished speaking. "Oh, yes! Of course! I don't have AIDS or anything. I would have told you before you…" Harry looked down. "I'm just…you know. Nervous about being with another person. I've only been with…I mean, had one partner," he added, feeling ridiculous.

Jamie took his hand and led him around the couch to a door against the wall. "Here's the loo. Come out whenever you're ready."

_Ready for what?_ Harry thought as he ducked into the room and shut the door behind him.

He hadn't lied; he did actually have to use the loo. But he also had to clear his head and think about just what the fuck he was doing. How far was he willing to let Jamie take him? This was all so new, and Malfoy sure as hell wasn't there to help. How far was just far enough that James wouldn't be too suspicious if he called it off?

He couldn't have sex with him….no, no, nonono. He was even surprised he had let James suck him off. It wasn't that Ginny hadn't done that before….but he had barely even thought he might like men, and it was so public…with Malfoy listening in…. Harry's throat constricted when he thought of the scathing words he was sure to hear from Draco about it. So…what to do?

Harry turned to the toilet, relieving himself. There were two options, really. One, he could go as far as he could that didn't involve James' dick and his ass and without feeling totally freaked out (because even in Harry's opinion, it would be awfully suspicious, not to mention rude, not to at least reciprocate James' earlier gesture in the loo.); or two, he could just tell James that he just couldn't go any further. The second option was entirely doable, but really, Harry was afraid that James might not be as understanding as he seemed to be.

Or, he'd see straight through Harry, and realise that Harry was indeed, not gay.

Because he wasn't, really. So he was enjoying kissing a guy, and yes, perhaps they did look nice nearly naked, but he still liked girls, so he couldn't be completely gay.

Some part of him whispered secretly that he was strangling himself with denial, but Harry dismissed it without another thought.

Yet as he washed his hands Harry suddenly got a flash of Malfoy's smooth, perfectly rounded ass, all creamy skin and delicious curves and some rush of desire suddenly blossomed in his groin, and he nearly groaned out loud.

_Holy fuck…_

Okay…so maybe Malfoy's ass turned him on. That should be weird, shouldn't it?

Harry, knowing he couldn't stall any longer, shook off the residual feelings involving his near orgasm and images of Malfoy's ass and opened the door, gingerly stepping out of the bathroom, scanning the living room for Sameson. He found him, however, in the kitchen, still shirtless, preparing something at the stove. As Harry approached, Jamie said, "Hop up on the counter."

Harry did so, once he entered the kitchen, letting his legs dangle off the edge, watching as Jamie made something that looked and smelled like hot cocoa. The older man finished stirring the steaming pot, and carefully poured the drink into two large mugs, handing one to Harry.

"My mum's secret recipe. You looked like you might need it."

Harry blew on it for a moment then sipped. It was the richest hot cocoa he'd ever had. "It's really good," he said sincerely, smiling. What James didn't know, was that Harry had cast a silent detection spell, one that would create a quick but obvious pattern in the surface of the liquid if it contained poison of any kind. It was clean. He wasn't going to chance anything with a Muggle that worked with wizards. As far as Harry knew, James had known who he was the second he had told him his name. Thinking back on it, Harry really should have used an alias, but had been too nervous at the time to think properly. But hadn't it been Malfoy's job to guide him on this stupid venture? Harry cursed the blond again.

Jamie set down his own mug and moved between Harry's legs, leaning his stomach against the counter. He put his large hands on the top of Harry's thighs, rubbing his thumbs against the little crease between Harry's thighs and abdomen.

"You feeling better?"

"I wasn't feeling bad," Harry quipped.

Jamie leaned forward and gently kissed the cocoa away from Harry's lips. Then he put his mouth to Harry's ear and said, "It feels like you're not telling me something."

"About what?" Harry pulled back so he could look James in the eye. "Look, Jamie, I'm fine. Really. I told you, I haven't really been with anyone else, so I get a little nervous sometimes. I'm not as cock-sure as most gay men, alright?"

Jamie smirked. "I think you should be cock-sure, Harry. You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of."

Embarrassed, Harry flushed and took another sip of his cocoa. "Thanks," he mumbled.

"If you want, I'll take you down to the pawnshop now."

"Okay."

Harry set his mug down, and as soon as it was stable, Jamie grabbed him around the waist and pulled him straight off the counter, sliding a hand under his butt to hold him up. Harry yelped, startled, and automatically wrapped his arms and legs around Jamie. Jamie laughed, and kissed his neck. "You're lighter than you look."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Harry asked as Jamie walked, Harry in his arms and all, to a door opposite the front entrance.

"Well, would you rather I say you're heavier than you look?"

"I suppose not…" Harry said, conceding, craning his neck to see behind him, where Jamie was walking down a dim hallway, which ended in stairs that turned left down behind the counter of the pawnshop.

Harry was relieved when Jamie deposited him on the wooden counter next to the register, having felt ridiculous being carried around like a child.

_Okay…now to feign interest in anything old or unusual…Merlin, I'm going to sound like a ponce._

"This is my shop," Jamie said, with a grand gesture. "My partner mostly does the paperwork business side of things, so he's not here as often, hence why I live upstairs. Besides, he's got his wife and kids to watch after. I usually run the store, and sometimes find items to sell – you know, things people are trying to get rid of without realising what they've got. Though most of our business comes from people dropping off things they can't use anymore. Old instruments, electronics, CDs, jewellery, that sort of thing. Antiques, even. Here," and Jamie walked to a display across the room, and Harry jumped down to follow. He wondered why Jamie wasn't shivering. It was rather cold down here, and even Harry was a little chilled, though he was only wearing a sleeveless top – not much more than the other man.

Jamie pointed out an old desk. "This, for example, is a Baroque writing desk, made of mahogany…nearly two-hundred years old. We managed to get it for a fairly good price."

"It's beautiful," Harry said truthfully. It had gorgeous Fleur de Lis carvings on the head of the desk as well as the drawers, with bronze handles and only a few scratches and gouges in the surface.

Jamie continued to show him around the shop, pointing out interesting items that might have had some history, leading him into the main display room, behind the front area, and back out again. Attached to the register counter was a jewellery case, filled with glittering jewels and old pocket watches.

Harry looked at these with interest, searching if maybe the artefact was hidden amongst the jewels, or perhaps, used in a piece… But there were no spherical pieces, nothing that looked like it was a mixture of metals; nothing that exuded large amount of power, drawing Harry to it. While there were some very beautiful antiques, Harry could see, and more than a few cheaper rings and settings, there was no artefact.

"Interested in anything you see?" Jamie asked, and Harry's head snapped up from its perusal. "You've been staring rather intently at the jewellery case."

Harry looked back down, this time with less interest. "No, not really. I mean…I don't need a pocket watch, and I'm not exactly a girl," he replied, gesturing to the necklaces and more delicate rings. "I just like pretty things." A flash of Malfoy's face appeared in his mental vision, but he dismissed it.

_Malfoy's not pretty…he's just my Gays Anonymous sponsor, _he joked half-heartedly in his head.

"And things with a history," Harry finally added, pushing his thoughts away.

Deciding he was done looking at the case, Harry hopped back up where James had put him; on the wooden counter next to the cash drawer. James automatically moved to stand between his legs, putting his hands on Harry's waist. "You're hot," he said lowly in Harry's ear.

Chuckling despite himself, Harry said, "You really want to get into my pants, don't you?"

James looked up, his grin almost feral. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't."

"Don't you think we're moving a little fast?" Harry ventured, worried about the reaction he was going to receive.

James looked at him with a very straight face for a long moment, no discernable emotion in his features.

"Do you think we're moving too fast, Harry?" he finally asked.

"Well…" Harry hedged, "we've only known each other for a week…I'm just not sure I'm ready," he finished lamely, feeling like a complete idiot. Not to mention a pansy. He was sure the girl would enjoy the analogy, if she wasn't doing menial labour at the order of the Wizengamot.

Jamie continued to look at him with a straight face. "How far will you let me take you, Harry?"

_Oh yes, put it all on me…_ he thought bitterly. "Um…I'm not sure. I wasn't really thinking about specifics."

Jamie's face finally softened and he pulled Harry closer to him on the counter. "I'll go slow, and you tell me to stop, okay?"

Harry swallowed. "Okay."

* * *

"Jesus, Draco, you are not that drunk, stand up, will you?" 

"Bradley, you're being mean."

"No, you're just inebriated. I can't believe you're staying in a hotel…" he added under his breath, guiding his friend out of the elevator and down the hall. "Now, which one's yours?"

"Six…four…"

"604?"

"No, no….six…six fourteen."

Bradley looked at the wall plate that stated the room numbers and the direction they lay, and took a right. Scanning the room numbers as he passed, he found "614" two doors down on his left. "Okay, Draco, where's your key?"

"Hmmm…it's in mmm-pocket," the blond murmured quietly, leaning heavily against his reliable friend.

Bradley rolled his eyes, searching his friend's pockets, both front and back before finding the little plastic card and sliding it into the slot. The indicator light turned green, and Bradley turned the handle and pushed the door open while trying to find the light switch, but with Draco leaning on him and threatening to fall over or take Bradley with him, it was difficult.

"Draco, please. Help a guy out a little, will ya?"

Draco's response was to lean against Bradley's chest, effectively pinning him to the door frame, and to kiss him sloppily.

Bradley held out his right hand to stop the door from swinging back into his shoulder, and used his left hand to try and push Draco away. "Dr-Draco, stop," he said once he got the blond to stop kissing him. "You're drunk. And as your friend, I must stop you from embarrassing yourself."

"You're so nice, Bradley," Draco slurred, playing with Bradley's lapel. "You know…you are my best friends…" he frowned and emphasized, "_best friend_…out of all my friends, since I started coming to this world outside my own… You were the first. And I've always wondered why we haven't dated. I think we should. We'd be good together."

"Draco, I'm not even going to bother asking you if you know how silly you sound. You _know_ why we don't date. I'd rather not ruin our friendship. It's bad enough that I indulge you when I do."

"Oh, _please_, Bradley? Please stay with me tonight. Be with me," he said breathlessly, kissing Bradley again.

Bradley broke away. "Draco, you don't want me. You want Potter."

Draco pulled away, blinking, then scowling. "I don't wanna talk about Potter," he pouted.

"Malfoy, what the hell is going on?"

* * *

Thankfully, in Harry's opinion, James and he had only cleaned up, gone back upstairs, and finished their hot chocolate, which was "mysteriously" still warm. (Thank Merlin for silent heating charms, Harry had thought.) James had seemed a little suspicious, but he seemed to accept Harry's suggestion that the cups were insulated and left it alone. 

After that, Harry told James that he had probably better be on his way, because there was no knowing what his roommate had gotten into. "You worry about your roommate a lot, don't you?" James had asked.

"Not particularly," Harry replied dryly. "He's just a great big pillock, and likely to hurt himself if left alone too long."

Harry felt smug the whole way home, sitting snugly behind James on the bike. He _hoped_ Malfoy hurt himself. It would serve him right.

James insisted on taking him all the way to his door, so they rode the elevator up to the sixth floor, holding hands and murmuring random thoughts to each other.

"Will you come over for dinner tomorrow?" James asked.

Harry thought on it a moment. "Yeah. I'd like to."

The elevator pinged and Harry stepped out first, his hand trailing behind him as James let go. And because he was the first to step out, when he hit the edge of the alcove the elevator was in, he saw Draco and some man making out in the hallway.

Springing into action, Harry spun around and pushed a startled James back into the elevator, just narrowly missing the closing doors.

"Harry – what -"

"I'm sorry!" Harry said, breathlessly. "It was my roommate. He was…with somebody." Harry kissed James and pulled away, catching the doors just as they were about to close. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Wait, Harry-"

Harry lunged forward and kissed him again, silencing his protest. "Call me." Harry pushed the 'door close' button and jumped out of the way before they sensed him. "Goodnight," he said with finality, just as the doors closed on a bewildered James.

Turning around, Harry put on his "game" face; a cold steely determination wrapping around his heart. He peeked around the corner for a moment, and was relieved to see that the two men were not kissing anymore. In fact, it looked as though the taller one (who was rather tall, as he was looking down at Draco, and Draco was rather tall himself), was admonishing Draco. Harry thought he may like this guy, and then noticed that his hair was dark and his eyes were covered by glasses. And he was good-looking. Harry frowned.

Coming out from his hiding place, Harry strode down the hall, approaching the couple. "Malfoy, what the hell is going on?" he said, taking satisfaction in Malfoy's wounded look and the other man's surprise.

"I am not wanting to talk to you right now, Potter," Malfoy said with all the dignity his pout could afford, leaning back into his…male friend, and burying his face in his chest.

The other man looked at Harry and smiled, holding out a hand to shake. "You must be Harry. I'm Bradley, a friend of Draco's."

Bradley wasn't blind. Far from it, in fact. And Draco was right. He didn't look a thing like Harry. In the better light, Bradley could see the fire in Harry's brilliant green eyes, and could tell there was something special there. Draco and Harry could be brilliant together, if only they'd let themselves see it.

Harry took Bradley's hand, and shook it, with some trepidation. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise. I've heard a lot about you."

"You have?"

"Braaadleeeeyyy, stop talking to Potter. He's a horrible, stupid Gryffindor."

"A what?"

"Malfoy, shut up," Harry snapped stepping past them and pushing the door open as he stormed inside. "I have _more_ than enough reason to give you an earful right now." He flipped on the light and started taking off his jacket and kicking off his shoes.

Bradley followed, pulling Draco in with him. "I think you're gonna have to wait until morning to give Draco that earful, Harry," he said. "He's practically passed out. Which bed?"

"What? Oh. That one, there."

Bradley raised an eyebrow and started dragging Draco over. "It figures you have the bed farthest from the door, you drunk, blond, pain-in-the-arse."

"Tell me about it," Harry said to Bradley's comment. "What did he tell you about me?"

"Stop talking…" Draco murmured, his head lolling to the side and Bradley hefted him onto the bed.

"I wish you were cognate enough to hear me say this: just because you're skinny, it does _not_ make you light. You've put on weight, Draco Malfoy."

"Have not…"

Bradley rolled his eyes and turned away to talk to Harry. "I'd just leave him like that, if I were you. It'd do him good to wake up fully clothed with a hangover."

Harry scowled at the passed out blond. "Believe me, when he wakes, he will not be happy."

Bradley smiled. "I like you, Harry. You'd do Draco some good, I think."

"Good? Like the painful kind?"

Bradley laughed and stepped forward, patting Harry on the shoulder. "Goodnight, Harry. Sorry to leave you like this with him, but I've got another passed out bunch still waiting in my car."

"That's okay. It was nice to meet you."

"You as well."

"Goodnight," Harry said as Bradley showed himself out.

Turning back to the blond, he slid his wand out of his sock and whispered, "Oh no, you are _not_ going to get off so easily as getting to sleep the alcohol off, you great, big asshole. _Sobrietus._"

The comatose Draco jerked a little in his sleep, moaning. Harry, with a ferocious snarl on his face pointed his wand straight at Malfoy's forehead and yelled, "_Ennervate_!"

Draco's body jerked so forcefully his eyes snapped open and he was suddenly sitting upright. He fell back with a _whump_, groaning and moaning like he was dying. Which, he probably felt like he was.

He raised his head, finally, and saw Harry standing over him. Groaning again, he attempted to roll over and escape the darker man's penetrating gaze. "No…Potter…can't… No talking to you…"

"I know you are still nursing a hang-over, Malfoy, but you don't get to sleep it off like a normal Muggle. Now sit up. I'm going to have a go at you like I properly should."

"What…? Potter, leave me alone."

"NO!" At this, Harry reached forward and grabbed Malfoy by the collar and hoisted him up into a sitting position again. "DO YOU HAVE _ANY_ FUCKING IDEA WHAT I'VE BEEN THROUGH TONIGHT?"

Draco grimaced at the manhandling and scowled at the yelling, raising his hands to his ears. "Yes, Potter, I do. I had to _listen_ to it, thankyouverymuch."

"No, Malfoy… You – you _left_ me! You hypocritical _bastard_! You went off comm and _left me_ with him!"

"So? It sounded like you were doing _fine_ with out me, Potter."

"Fine? _Fine_? You call being left alone in a gay club with some guy who wants to suck your dick _fine_?!" Harry was nearly hysterical; he was breathing hard and his fists clenched tightly in Draco's jacket. He wanted to hit something, so he shoved Malfoy away from him, stalking to the other side of the room, and banging the wall hard with the side of his fist. Whirling around, he spat, "You're such a fucking arsehole, Malfoy."

"Did I ever say I wasn't?" Draco retorted, playing the apathetic card while his head stopped spinning.

"_Goddammit_, Malfoy! Don't you give a crap? You went off comm, completely against _your own_ fucking hissy fit from last week, I might add, and left me! You left me!"

"So you've mentioned a good twenty times already." While Harry seethed, trying to come up with a response, Draco sat up, rubbing his temples and glaring in the direction of Harry's feet. "You must have abandonment issues, Harry. That seems to be the focus of your argument."

Harry couldn't help it; water was welling up in his eyes as the pressure of it all crashed down on his psyche. "You don't – you don't know. You're gay."

"SO?" Draco yelled, standing. "So _what_ if I'm gay, Harry?"

"You would _want_ a guy to suck on you, and touch you and – and – and-"

Harry wasn't crying, really. He just couldn't breathe, and water was just coming out of his eyes, that was all.

"Potter?"

Harry fell to his knees, that weakness finally settling over him. He hiccoughed, wiping the tears from his face, trying to catch his breath, but he couldn't, because the pressure was crashing down in another wave.

"Potter? Potter!" Draco, stumbling a little because of his headache, slowly made his way over to Harry, kneeling in front of him. "Potter, what did he do to you?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but a sob came out instead, and when he saw Malfoy's hand reach out to touch his shoulder like in a cheesy romance movie, he jerked away. "NO! Don't touch me!"

"Potter, did he rape you?" Draco said seriously, a little horrified as he thought about his comment earlier that night. He suddenly felt quite a bit more sober at seeing Harry fall apart before his eyes.

Harry was so stunned at the question he didn't know how to respond. But then he was afraid Draco would take the silence as an affirmative, and quickly said, quite forcefully, "_No_. I just…I didn't know what to do! You weren't _there_! He was touching me, but it felt…it felt…"

"Good?"

Harry pursed his lips. "I don't like him that way, though. I was nervous – I thought if I'd let him go pretty far, that he'd show me the artefact…"

"Did he? Do you know where it is?"

Harry glared. "No. I don't know where it is, so it was all for fucking nothing!"

"But you enjoyed it, didn't you?"

"I'm not gay, Malfoy."

"But you enjoyed it-"

"No! I – Well, I did. But getting a good blow job from a guy doesn't make you gay!"

"Harry, you're in denial-"

"No, Malfoy, I'm not. Just leave it." Harry stood up and went into the bathroom, Draco trailing slowly behind.

"You can't even consider the possibility, can you, Potter?" he said as he reached the doorway.

Harry was splashing cold water on his face. "What possibility? That you're a complete hypocritical arse? Yeah, I can consider that possibility pretty clearly."

"Oh shove it, Potter. You know that wasn't what I meant."

"I said drop it, Malfoy. I'm not gay. It… Physically, yes, it felt good, but I don't like him like that. It was…wrong, somehow."

Draco caught Harry's eyes in the mirror. "Maybe you just weren't with the right person."

Harry stared back for a moment before saying, "Maybe I was just wasn't with the right _gender_." Then he pushed past Malfoy, jostling him hard by the shoulder.

"Yeah… Have no regard for the drunk person, precariously standing on the brink of being sick all over everything," Draco muttered, stepping into the bathroom to take a look at himself. "Oh my god, I look like shit." He splashed some water on his face and through his hair, cooling himself off. His headache was still pounding on the edge, but he didn't feel nearly as bad as he had when he woke up. In fact, he should still feel a lot more like shit…

"Hey, Potter?"

"What Malfoy?"

"Did you use a charm on me or something? Why am I not cursing the gods for giving me a terrible hangover?"

"Just a Sobriety Charm. Not enough to take away all the symptoms, but enough to clear your head a bit."

"Sobriety Charm, huh?" Draco murmured. The charm wasn't usually used for sobering up drunk people, but it'd do in a pinch, if you didn't have a potion available. It was actually used to keep people alert and awake, if they were studying for exams, working late at night, being interrogated…

"I'm surprised you didn't hit me," the blond called, still staring at his reflection.

Harry walked back into view, still dressed in his jeans, but without his shirt. "I wanted to. But I wasn't going to let you off so easily. And besides, you're drunk. You wouldn't have been able to defend yourself."

"Spoken like a true Gryffindor." Draco smirked. "Don't you ever kick anyone when they're down, Potter?"

"No, Malfoy."

Draco looked away. "You should have. I deserved it. I still do." Looking back up, he gazed at Harry a moment before turning around and saying, "You're right. I did leave you. And I knew that you might panic, but at the time I didn't care. I just couldn't listen anymore."

Harry looked away himself, lost in thought. "I… A part of me understands, Malfoy. I wouldn't want to hear that kind of thing either." It was said with a light blush; Harry was perhaps remembering the other day when he jerked off on comm. "But, tell me why. Why would you risk the case like that, knowing what you know about me? Knowing what was going on and what was sure to happen? Why do that to me, Draco?"

Draco shrugged. "I…don't know. I'd rather not talk about it." He started to leave the room, but Harry stopped him with a hand on the chest. When he opened his mouth to speak, Draco cut in, "I'm going to go to my flat and find a potion to cut down on the headache. You probably want to shower."

Harry was like a goldfish just for a moment, obviously trying to think of something to say. Finally, he let out a breath and nodded. "Don't splinch yourself."

"I'm not too far away. I'll take a cab."

"Do you live in Muggle London, Malfoy?"

"Of course not. My flat's between two Muggle housing developments. They don't even know it's there." Draco winked and stepped around Harry, going to the door and stepping out, leaving Harry alone. Again.

* * *

Draco came back about twenty minutes later, looking much more bright-eyed and less peaky than he had before. 

Harry was freshly washed, feeling so much better after the _very_ hot water cleansed his skin and some of his worries. He now wore his pyjamas, and had wanted to torch Malfoy's clothes, but thought it better to ask first.

"You look better," Harry said once Draco was inside, shedding his own clothing.

"So do you," Draco replied.

"Wanted to burn your clothes, but I'm not sure you would take kindly to that."

Draco looked at the pile of clothes at the foot of Harry's bed, where the man lay, and said, "Go ahead. I don't care." After Harry took them out to the balcony and did just that, coming back inside, the blond added, "Do you like him?"

"What?"

"The Muggle. Do you like him?"

"Malfoy, I told you I didn't."

"Yeah, but I saw the way you were with him, Potter."

"What do you mean?"

"He was all over you, and you let him."

"I didn't know what else to do!"

"Bullshit. He's always all over you."

"Malfoy, can't you just leave it alone?"

Malfoy thought on this for a moment. "Fine."

"So, do you normally snog all of your friends?" Harry asked, needing to get in a comeback.

"What?" Draco asked, whirling around from his disrobing. "What are you talking about?"

"You and your friend. Bradley, I believe his name was. You two were kissing when I found you."

Draco paled. "Oh no… Bradley…" He hung his head and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "I must have been _so_ drunk," he muttered to himself.

"So, are you two, like, an item or something?"

"Me and Bradley? No," he replied forcefully.

"Really? It didn't look that way to me," Harry teased.

"Oh, Potter, shut up about what you know nothing about. Bradley and I are friends, that's all. In fact, he's my best friend."

"Which is why you were snogging him."

"I was drunk! I get…a little amorous when I'm drunk, okay?"

"So he's really your fuck-buddy then."

"You don't listen do you? No, he's not. He's just…there when I need him, and he sorta…indulges me, okay? I know it's not right, but nothing's ever come of it and nothing ever will."

"Why not? If you'll snog him when you're drunk, doesn't that mean you'd like to snog him when you're sober? You know…sub-conscious feelings?"

"No, Potter. Bradley's my friend, and I want it to stay that way. Not make it messy by sleeping with each other." He huffed, and shucked off his jeans. "Not that I need to explain myself to you."

Harry held up his hands, having enjoyed the game. "Sorry. Just curious…"

"Yeah, well, curiosity killed the cat, you know. Or, in this case, the Gryffindor. Your house mascot _was_ a lion, you know."

"Ha ha. I'm going to bed, okay?"

"Alright. I'm going to shower."

Harry watched Draco until he was behind the bathroom door, then slipped off his glasses, setting them on the nightstand and clicking off the light.

* * *

"Malfoy, what's the problem? Everything's going according to the plan. Sorta." He turned to grab his shirt. 

"Everything _is_ going according to plan, and that _is_ the effing problem!"

Harry stood there, with wide eyes and his shirt dangling from his hand. "I'm not reading you…" he said cautiously. He had just announced that he had to meet James for dinner that night, after the two wizards had spent a day trailing him and not talking about the previous night.

"You're falling for him."

A burst of laughter escaped Harry's mouth. "What? That's absurd."

Draco's mouth became a thin line and he clenched his fists at his sides. "You're a terrible liar, Potter. He's all over you, giving you all this attention, and you're lapping it up; you _like_ it. Why else would you go over to his place again after what happened last night?"

"Malfoy, are you jealous? Would you rather it be you?" Harry said in a patronising tone.

"Fuck no. He doesn't like my type anyway. We've already established that. That's why you're doing it, remember?"

"Then what's the problem? I _have_ to find out if he's got the artefact. Why are you being so melodramatic?"

Draco grabbed onto Harry's arms and yanked him close. "Because I can't stand it. This. His blatant fawning all over you, and the way you look at him – it's gross."

"Malfoy…what the fuck are you talking about? I don't look at him in any way." Harry glared and tried to pull away, but Draco's grip was like iron. "Well you're the gay one, Malfoy. I don't even like boys. I'd've thought you'd get a kick out of watching me squirm."

"It was amusing at first, but then you actually started _liking_ the bastard."

"How many times do I have to tell you that I don't like him that way? Even _you_ were the one to suggest that he _raped_ me." At Draco's grimace and lack of answer he added sarcastically, "What? Are you afraid that little straight me is going to take all the gay men away from you? I know how promiscuous you are… Remember Bradley?"

Draco shook Harry, hard. "Fuck you, Potter. That isn't what this is about."

"Then what is it, Malfoy?" Harry yelled. "Fuckin' spit it out!"

Draco battled with himself for a moment before blurting out, "I want you."

Harry's mouth was parted and the expression on his face was one of complete bewilderment. After a stunned and silent moment he murmured quietly, "But I don't like boys."

"Stop saying that! I know you're starting to like him, Potter, or you wouldn't have let him do those things to you. Stop denying it. You're a terrible liar."

Harry seemed to get back his footing, if only slightly. "It's called acting, Malfoy. I'm _pretending_ to like him. Otherwise this wouldn't work."

"You can't act, Potter. I've had to guide you nearly the whole way."

That statement made Harry extremely angry, considering what he had gone through the night before. "I've been doing fine on my own without you, Malfoy. And let go of me!"

"No! I'm tired of you pretending to not like men when you're obviously starting to! Stop lying to yourself!"

"Why? So you can get me into bed? No, Malfoy. I don't like guys, just deal with it!"

"I've seen the way you look at each other, how you look at him when he kisses you… And I won't have it anymore. I want you. You're mine."

Desire shot straight through Harry's belly to his cock, but with it came a sense of shock and confusion. He didn't know what to make of his reactions to Draco's words, but it scared him. Was Malfoy right? Was Harry really attracted to men? Beyond the physical sense? Harry didn't know what was right, or how he was feeling. And Malfoy was so close…

"Potter, say something!"

Harry blinked and looked up at the blond standing over him. There seemed to be a bit of panic in Malfoy's eyes, as if he was afraid of Harry's reaction.

"I…don't know what… How did this happen? _Why_? Why do you like me?"

"I don't know," Malfoy said through tight lips.

"I don't believe you," Harry protested, struggling again to get out of Malfoy's grip. "This is all some sick joke, isn't it? Fool Potter into thinking he just might be gay, then turn the table and laugh in his face at his own stupidity. Well, I'm not falling for it, Malfoy. Find someone else to play your gay jokes on."

"Goddammit, Potter, shut up! I'm _not_ playing a joke. I _want_ you, dammit. There's something _here,_ can't you feel it?"

"No, I can't."

"You're lying again."

"Prove that I'm lying at all and I _may_ start to believe you!"

Suddenly, so Harry had no time to react, Draco pulled Harry roughly against him and kissed him, hard. It was awkward, and Harry's nose was pressing strangely into Draco's cheek, but the passion behind it; the desire pouring out of Malfoy like a waterfall, crashed into Harry with a force that made him tremor.

When Malfoy pulled away, he looked at Harry, obviously waiting for a response.

"Don't tell me you didn't feel that," Draco said softly.

Harry could feel emotions welling up in his eyes. Oh god, he really was transparent.

"I…" Harry let his shirt fall from his fingers and clung to Malfoy's jacket. "I don't-"

Malfoy silenced him with another kiss, this time moving a hand up Harry's arm to behind his head, threading his long pale fingers though the thick, dark hair.

Harry clung desperately to Draco's jacket, crushing the fabric between his fingers. He moaned just slightly in the back of his throat and pressed his lips against Draco's. He could feel tears welling up and rolling down his cheeks, Draco's nose catching a few and smearing them as the kiss changed and grew deeper. Draco's other hand slipped down to wrap around the small of Harry's back and pull him closer.

Draco's tongue slipped from his mouth to pass over Harry's lips, but just at that moment, Harry pulled away, pushing away from him; breathing harshly.

"Potter?"

"I need to go."

"What?"

Harry wiped the tears off his face. "He's waiting for me. I have to go." Draco looked like he was about to say something in protest, but Harry cut him off. "I'll be back. I promise. I just…need to go."

Draco nodded, and watched as Harry picked up his shirt, put it on, grabbed his jacket and shoved on his shoes. When he made it to the door he turned around.

"Bye."

"Goodbye," said Draco, watching him go. Once he left, Draco finished, "Harry."

* * *

**A/N: **_I hope you all really liked this chapter! I'm not sure if it's my favourite, but it's definitely up there, so far. Again, there were about two pages or so cut out of the end of the second scene, and those can only be read at my website, which you can find on my userpage. If you read it there, you can either come back here and review, or please, review by sending me an email. I LOVE reciving reviews! They keep my muse from dying..._


	6. Chapter Six: Wrath

**WRITTEN FOR THE TWO BROOMSTICKS FALL FIC-A-THON **

**Summary: **Harry and Draco had a mission. It was simple. Find out who stole the artefact, and get it back from the Muggle fencing it. Not as simple as it sounds, when you both hate each other with a passion, and the Muggle starts falling for your straight partner, who you need to help handle the Muggle Gay Scene. And what happens when you start falling for him too?

**Warnings: **Some swearing, and **fairly graphic sexual situations. ****This is a cleaner version - the original is at my website, which is linked on my user page. Thank you. **Post-HPB, post-war. Multi-chapter…around seven or so.

**Prompt: **_HP/DM. "Everything is working out according to the plan and that IS the effing problem!!" Post-war. Harry and Draco are Aurors/cops and have to work on a mission together. Part of said mission consists in catching some bad guy to get something from him. In order to do so, it is decided that Harry would seduce him and gain his trust. The guy starts falling for Harry, but he's not the only one... Draco does too. How will he deal with the newfound attraction?_

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, and all associated characters from the Harry Potter universe are the property of J.K. Rowling and those to whom she has licensed her creations, including without limitation Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No copyright infringement is intended. The author of this fic and the website maintainers are making no profit from this story or any of the site's contents.

* * *

_Chapter Notes: _Hmm...well, I know this chapter has been a LONG time in coming...I updated The Bet, had some writer's block, _still _have some writer's block, and finally finished this chapter, only to start back up on The Bet again. I'm really hoping my muse stays with me a little while longer, and has, in fact, brought an appetite. 

As always, I have to thank my betas, **Omi, IcyAurora8 and Michelle,** as well as the pioneers that made this fic possible, **Siren and Sansa,** and everyone who's ever read this fic. Thank you all so much for your support.

Overall, I am very pleased with this chapter. I felt that it was all over the place, but my three betas have assured me that I am insane, and that the chapter is just fine and makes loads of sense. So if it doesn't make sense to you, than piffle. :P Anyhow, I really do hope you all enjoy it, and I expect there to be lots of gasping, wide eyes, cheering, squirming, and all around madness resulting from this chapter, so tell me about all of it! Love you all lots!

**IMPORTANT NOTE: This chapter HAS BEEN EDITED for content. So - if you want the REAL, unabridged version, then please visit my website, which can be found on my profile page. THANK YOU!**

* * *

**Chapter VI – Wrath**

* * *

_8:05 pm_

Draco was starting to believe he was developing a nervous tick. This was the second time he had paced over Potters whereabouts. After Harry had left, Draco had kicked off his shoes and flopped ungraciously onto his bed. He lay there, arm thrown over his face for all of five minutes before he sat up, shocked that it had happened again. Harry had left without the comm.

"God _dammit_!"

_I should go after him,_ Draco had thought, then immediately realised the he had no way of getting in range of casting the spell while Harry was in James' flat.

_Maybe they aren't there yet,_ another voice said. _It's only been a few minutes._

_But what if he doesn't want me to come?_

It had been at that moment that Draco truly realised what he had done.

Draco usually prided himself on being in control of the world around him – the situations he found himself in – but nearly this entire mission he had been completely out of control. At least where Potter was concerned, and where Potter was concerned him quite a lot.

In fact, it concerned him so much that he now stood and had started pacing the length of the room for a third time.

_Okay, so I kissed Potter, and it was fucking brilliant, and then he left. He just left…for _him. _Okay, maybe not _for_ him, but to him, sure._ _And I'm letting that cloud my judgment._

_Use your instincts, Malfoy. You should go. You know you should._

So he Apparated. Landing lightly in the alley next to the pawn shop, he crouched in the shadows, listening intently for signs of inhabitants upstairs, but there was nothing. Distantly, he heard the sound of cars, and there was some music playing a little too loudly in a building down the street. Soon, the distinctive sound of a motorbike singled itself out from the rush of engines, and Draco tensed, pressing himself up against the wall before quickly casting a disillusionment charm to hide the fact that his skin and hair reflected light like the moon on a clear night.

The bike got louder and closer, and then pulled into the alley, the bright headlight blinding Draco for a second before the bike clicked off and the engine died down. The light glowed out, leaving spots in Draco's vision for a moment, and the now near-silence became almost deafening.

Draco watched Harry climb off the bike, pulling his helmet off. Draco could only really see his silhouette, but it was obvious that Harry was radiating discontent.

Draco was mildly surprised when James got off the bike himself and leaned over the seat to take Harry's hand. Draco raised up his wand arm, ready to cast the comm spell at the ample opportunity.

"Harry, what's wrong?" James asked, concern lacing his voice.

Harry shook his head, and looked up to smile. "Nothing. Just more roommate drama."

_Drama?_ Draco thought, with a bit of indignant hurt. _You call _that_ drama?_

"You wanna talk about it?"

"No. I just want to forget about him."

Draco froze.

_I see, Potter. I see it all perfectly._

James smiled and leaned down, capturing Harry's mouth with his. "I think I can arrange that."

Shuddering with something akin to disgust and coupled with rage and perhaps even hurt, Draco Disapparated back to the hotel room.

* * *

_8:09pm_

There was a loud crack to Harry's left, and both he and Jamie jumped, looking down the dark alley, but there was nothing there.

"What was that?" Jamie asked, sounding slightly startled and with a dangerous edge to his voice.

"I don't know…" Harry trailed off, frowning a bit and sighing.

_Are you here, Draco?_

* * *

_8:09pm_

Draco threw his wand against the wall as soon as all of his particles were reassembled. It bounced harmlessly off the plaster and fell to the floor.

_Malfoy, you're an imbecile. You thought Potter _liked_ you kissing him? He was disgusted by it! How could you let yourself think-_

Draco stopped his thoughts in their tracks and stepped over to pick up his wand, pocketing it. He slipped off his shoes and socks, curling his toes in the carpet.

Maybe a hot shower would help calm him down.

Draco went into the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind him. He avoided the mirror, crossing his arms in front of him to grab the hem of his jumper and pull it off, folding the dark grey fabric neatly and placing it on the toilet lid. His hair was ruffled, and he automatically smoothed it back down, his fingers deftly moving the strands to their rightful place.

He took his wand out of his pocket, his movements unhurried and deliberate, placing it with a soft 'clack' on the counter. Pulling on the leather strap of his belt, he released it from the tine and slipped it out of the belt loops in his trousers. Curling it in a tight circle, he placed it on top of his jumper, then straightened, his fingers moving to undo the buttons of his pressed trousers. Staring at a blank spot on the wall opposite, Draco's fingers moved with grace and agility, as though he had gone through the motions of unbuttoning his five-button, tailor-made slacks a million times.

With a little nudge, they slid down his thighs and to the floor, where he stepped out of them, bending over to pick them up and fold them neatly as well. With a short pause, he walked over to the shower stall and started the water running, waiting for it to turn warm against his fingers before starting the showerhead.

He shook the water off his hand and went to gather his shower things from his side of the counter. He had wanted to avoid looking into the mirror, honestly afraid of what he might see in himself. He looked up eventually, though, because some part of him said that the last thing he should be was afraid of his own damn reflection.

His corn-silk hair was the same pale shade of yellow it had always been, though he remembered an old portrait from when he was a baby hanging in the manor. His hair back then might as well have been white, for there was no colour lighter in the universe than the colour of his hair, his mother once said.

His grey eyes were the same grey they had always been too – but perhaps they had been jewel blue in the portrait. But that colour had faded, just like him.

His skin was still a flawless cream, with the exception of the five o'clock shadow dusting his chin with gold, and a small scar right on the line of his cheek, the injury so faded and white that it only cast a shine, making his face look sharper than it was.

His nose was still a bit pointy for his tastes, though as a child, he thought his complexion and bone structure were perfect…just like his mum's. But it was more his father's face he held; one of grace and beauty to be sure, but one that was sharp and could cut like a razor's edge.

_Is that what he thinks of me? That I'll __hurt him? That I'm too much like my father?_

_Why is it always about you, Malfoy?_

He wished his inner voices would stop sounding so much like Potter.

The mirror was clouding; the water running hot and filling the room with steam. He stepped away from the counter, slipping off his pants and placing them atop his other clothing, then gathered up his shower things before parting the curtain and stepping into the warmth. He set his hair potions and soap in the corner and stepped backwards, letting the hot water beat down on his shoulders and neck. He took a moment to breathe before tilting his head back and smoothing his hair off his forehead with his hands as the water poured onto it, turning corn-silk into spun gold.

The heat relaxed his muscles, yet made the air thick and stifling, so Draco turned and leaned against the cool tile to shock his system awake again.

_I shouldn't have left like that. Regardless of what he said, I should have just put us on comm and dealt with it. Forget what they might wind up doing while on comm. Leaving Potter like that was stupid, Malfoy, and you know it._

"FUCK!" Draco screamed, banging the side of his fist into the tile.

He breathed harshly, wishing the stinging in his eyes could be explained away by soap.

_It shouldn't be like this. I'm not some pining school girl. I don't even _like_ him most of the time, and it's not like he's the hottest guy I've ever seen… He's just…Potter. That infuriating sonofabitch._

_That I'm attracted to for some similarly infuriating reason._

Draco grabbed his hair potion, pouring an ample amount into his palm and rubbing it all over his hair, building up bubbles and working the potion into his scalp; his fingers massaging almost vigorously.

He was angry, he knew that. Angry at himself, he knew that too, but that still didn't change what had happened, and how stupid he had been to think things might finally be different.

But when had they ever been? Draco walked into this case with the full knowledge that Potter was a self-righteous arsehole, and that he didn't really give a fuck what Potter did or thought about anything; he had just wanted to get this mission over and done with. The less time spent with Potter the better.

'_And then the second James got close, you got jealous like he was trying to play with your favourite toy._'

_Potter's not a toy._

'_But you still got jealous_.'

_Of course I did. Potter's mine. He's always been mine._

'_And here we find the root of the problem._'

Draco hated it when he talked sense into himself. Of course Potter had always been his; his adversary, his object of malicious amusement, his rival at work, in Quidditch, in school. In every way possible, Harry Potter had always been a part of his life, whether he wanted him to be or not. That was just the way things were.

And now that Draco had a different sort of interest in Harry Potter, his reasons for jealousy changed, and now he wanted things to change.

Finished rinsing the potion out of his hair, he put in a conditioning agent, gelling to his hair where it would set for a few minutes before he washed it away. Meanwhile, he rubbed some skin tonic onto his face and down his neck – feeling it automatically clean and tighten up his pores and moisturise the new skin while leaving him clean shaven at the same time.

He then grabbed his special soap bar, rubbing it across his chest, watching as bubbles formed then popped before the soap was washed away by the water. He slid the bar over his toned arms and under; down his ribs and across his hips. He washed his legs and then whispered a quick charm for the bar to run over his back, just where he couldn't reach. He loved this soap. It was a wooden sort of scent; something musky like sandalwood perhaps, but there was something sweet on top of that; some flora that he couldn't place. He knew it was made specifically for his skin, and he always asked the soap maker what was in it, but she'd just smile at him and say, "Just take your special bar of soap, Draco."

He smiled at the thought and stopped the charm, setting the bar aside and turning to let the suds wash away. Tipping his head back to let the water slick back his hair one last time, he sighed in a relaxing sort of way and turned off the water, pulling back the curtain into a room full of mist.

Grabbing the nearest towel, he put the towel right atop his head, letting the ends fall over his face.

"Why oh why hast thou forsaken me, great omnipotent being the Muggles blindly adore? Nothing I do is good enough for you, is it?" he said into the empty room.

No one answered, but it wasn't like he was expecting a sign from upon high. God didn't care about the Muggles who worshipped him so much, why would he care about those who his worshippers thought were the devil's children? Regardless, Draco still knew a wizard was more superior than a Muggle any day.

Well, he could inherently do things they couldn't, at any rate.

Drying off his body and hair, he thought about his lingering animosities towards Muggles. Was it because of James he was suddenly fuelling that fire again? He had no qualms with his friends, who were all Muggle. They were brilliant at whatever they did, and were wonderful people to boot – once past his barriers, Draco practically forgot all about the fact that they couldn't do some things he could and that he had to hide half of who he was from them. Having a flat full of Muggle appliances helped.

It was perhaps a little frustrating, but Draco got used to it in time; it wasn't as if lying wasn't his life. He just wished he could trust his friends that much more.

Like Potter. _He_ would trust his friends until it killed him, and probably anyone else that proved themselves worthy.

Like Sameson James.

_But he's not, Harry, can't you see that?_ Draco wanted to scream, but instead he simply cleaned and dried his towel before combing through his hair instead. _He's not worth it. Not worth your life, you bloody, self-sacrificing Gryffindor._ For all they knew, James had used the artefact and has just been hiding his malicious glee at being able to do amazing things all too well.

But then there was that one comment…

"_If you want out of whatever the hell you want to call yourself…_"

It certainly wasn't an awed sort of remark. It sounded more disgusted, actually, Draco thought.

Draco finished in the bathroom and gathered his shower things, drying them off and walking out into the front room to change into his pyjamas. He looked around the room quickly, thinking maybe Potter had returned while he was in the shower, but the room was just as empty as it had been when he'd gone in. Which was probably just as well, as he was starkers at the moment, having left his other clothes in the bathroom.

He set his things down on his dresser and pulled out a pair of silk pyjama bottoms and a white tee-shirt, slipping them on and returning to the bathroom to pick up his clothes and take a look at his hair before shutting off the light and leaving.

After putting his clothes away, he looked around the room, trying to find something to do while he waited for Harry to come back. He picked up the potions books he had brought over and thumbed through the pages, trying to find something that would catch his eye. He quickly grew bored however, and so he flopped back on his bed and grabbed the remote, deciding that if the telly couldn't at least entertain him for a few moments, nothing would.

He came across some chat show with this bloke Jonathan, who was by far campier looking than any gay man he had seen in a while, but in that pink-suit-and-tie sort of way. Draco was positive he was gay until he mentioned his wife and kids and then Draco had no choice but to mourn the loss of the comedian to the straight world. Jonathan was actually pretty funny, as was the kid he was interviewing. Some guy who had apparently done a whole bunch of films and was well known all over the world. And really hyper. He told Jonathan, "I'm just trying to prove to you that it's not past my bedtime." Draco smiled, and remembered those days when all the Slytherin boys would get together and stay up late into the night, telling ghost stories and teaching each other cool spells with their wands. This kid looked no older than seventeen, and if he had been just a few years older, Draco might have gone for him.

Draco frowned and flipped the channel to another chat show, but found that one lacking and so he turned back to Jonathan's and watched as the teen celebrity cracked jokes and played some song or another on his cheeks.

The show eventually ended, and Draco checked the time; it was almost midnight. Where the fuck was Harry? He'd been gone nearly four hours.

Swallowing his nervous frustration, Draco started flipping channels again; trying to find something he might be interested in, and found his eyelids drooping. He struggled to stay awake; he wanted to be alert when Harry came back. Just as he was drifting off, his ears picked up a whirr-click, and he opened his lethargic eyes and turned his head to see Harry at the door, his back to the room as he closed it. He had his right hand on the handle, lightly touching it with his fingertips, as if he was afraid to let completely go.

Draco sat up, suddenly awake. "Potter?" he asked, knowing his voice sounded more than little relieved.

Harry didn't move, so Draco stood and walked past Harry's bed to the entry-way, watching Harry's back. His shoulders were slumped, and his head hung low. All Draco would see were shadows.

"Potter? Are you okay?" Draco was getting worried. Harry still hadn't turned around, or moved. At all.

Something in Draco's peripheral vision moved, and the blond looked down to see a small, dark stain on the floor right beneath Harry's left hand. Draco watched in horror as another drop of blood fell from Harry's fingers, staining the floor deeper.

* * *

_8:12pm_

"So what's for dinner?" Harry asked as they walked up the back staircase, needing to distract himself from his thoughts of a certain, blond-haired individual.

Jamie smiled over his shoulder. "Homemade spaghetti."

"Mmmm, sounds good."

Jamie took his keys out to unlock the door. "It is."

"You're not modest at all, are you?" Harry said from a step below.

"Not at all. Haven't you noticed that yet?" Jamie turned around and pulled Harry up onto the next step.

Harry smiled. "Maybe. A little."

Sameson grinned, leaning down to capture Harry's mouth in a kiss. He pulled away, leaving Harry a little breathless. "Let's get that dinner started."

They entered the apartment, hanging up their jackets, and headed into the kitchen area, where Jamie had laid out the items to make dinner.

"You're making the sauce from scratch?" Harry said, picking up a tomato.

"Is there any other way?" Jamie asked with a wink.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Anything I can do to help?"

Sameson took the tomato from Harry's hands, patting the counter behind him with the other. "Just sit here and look pretty."

Chuckling, Harry hopped up onto the counter, and watched as Jamie got started, pulling a knife out of a drawer and taking out a cutting board.

"Are you thirsty? I've got some beer in the icebox if you want. Help yourself."

"Okay." Harry slid off the counter to the fridge and opened it, taking out two beers. Using the bottle opener that Jamie handed him, he opened both, sliding one over to Jamie, while hopping back up on his own bit of counter to watch.

Jamie made quick work of dinner. Chopping, dicing, boiling, seasoning… Harry was amazed at how adept he was in the kitchen.

"Wow…you're really good at that. That isn't the only thing you know how to make, is it?" Harry asked as an afterthought, taking a swig of his beer.

Jamie turned the sauce on low and checked the noodles before turning around, a raised eyebrow and a smirk on his face. "Do you really think so low of me, Harry?"

Harry's eyes darted around. "What? No, of course not. I mean, I didn't mean to offend you…"

Jamie laughed and stepped forward to curl his arms around Harry's waist. "You didn't. You're perfectly right. I _can_ only make spaghetti. And anything in a box."

Harry laughed in return and they shared a kiss. "Dinner should be ready in a few minutes," Jamie said, turning back round to finish taking care of dinner.

"Should I set the table…?"

Jamie chuckled. "Do you see a table to set, Harry?"

Harry leaned to the right to see into part of the living room. "Er…no?"

"It's probably not proper, but we'll have to eat at the coffee table."

Harry shrugged. "That's fine. I've been ordering room service and eating in bed for the last two weeks."

"Have you guys found a new place yet?"

"No. We're…still waiting for the insurance money," Harry fibbed, hoping he didn't sound like a complete moron. He still really didn't know much about the intricacies of Muggle life, but he'd heard that on a film once, and hoped it worked.

Apparently it did, because Sameson didn't say anything about it. "Is your roommate still driving you crazy?"

"I thought that was obvious when you picked me up."

Jamie finished serving up the spaghetti onto two plates before turning around. "It was, but are you okay? You've been pretty quiet."

"I'm fine. I just…didn't have much to say. I was watching you."

"Watching me, huh? See anything you like?"

Taking the bait, Harry jumped off the counter and wrapped his arms around Jamie's shoulders. "Yes. Your back, for one."

"My back?" he replied, sceptical.

Harry nodded. "And your arms…" he said, moving his free hand down to squeeze one of the man's biceps, realising that he did kind of like Jamie's strong arms.

"And…?"

Harry felt his face turn warm. "Your bum."

Jamie threw back his head and laughed. "Now we're talkin'." He leaned down and kissed Harry breathless. "Dinner's ready. Let's take it into the living room and watch some telly."

Harry smiled. "Sounds good."

_Okay…so food, __alcohol, entertainment. But how am I going to find out where the damn artefact is…? Fuck, I wish I had some Veritaserum, that way I could just stupefy him, slip him some and get over with it._

Harry followed Jamie out to the living area with the beer, as Jamie insisted on carrying the plates. They settled themselves down at the coffee table, sitting on the floor and turning on the television. Harry dug right in, making a small moaning noise in his throat as the perfectly blended tomatoes and spices hit his taste buds.

"Good?" Jamie asked, smirking.

"Like you don't already know," Harry retorted, after swallowing his mouthful. "I bet you feed this to all the guys you're dating."

Jamie leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Only the ones I'm trying to sleep with."

Harry just gaped at him. "Really?"

"Sure," Jamie said nonchalantly, putting a forkful of tomato sauce and noodles in his mouth.

"Does it normally work?" Harry asked, feeling a little perturbed.

Jamie turned to Harry with a serious face. "Harry, it was a joke. You really are gullible, aren't you?" he asked, a small smile on his face.

Harry glared at his plate. "That's what my roommate says."

"Maybe this roommate has something to him, other than aggravating you."

"Gee, thanks."

"Oh, you know I'm on your side."

"So you say…" Harry went back to eating.

"So I bet you're wondering where the artefact is, aren't you?"

Harry sucked air in the wrong way just as he was trying to swallow his mouthful, so he started choking slightly. "_Wha-what_?" Harry turned to James with wide eyes, once he has finished swallowing, and his coughs subsided. _Great, Potter. What a ridiculously unsubtle way to blow your cover._

Sameson James was looking at Harry with a _very_ dangerous light in his eye, the dead stare on his face signifying many unpleasant happenings for Harry if he said the wrong thing.

"I'm sorry?" Harry asked, his heart caught in his throat. _Oh god, holy crap, how did he find out?!_ Harry put his hand on the side of his right leg, where his wand was strapped.

"You're not a bad liar, Harry, but you're not _that_ good."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

James leaned forward, inches from Harry's face. Harry deliberately didn't move away from the criminal's proximity. He wasn't afraid. He wasn't.

"I _know_ what you are, Harry Potter. I even know _who_ you are. 'The Great Saviour of your people'."

Harry swallowed. "I'm nobody's saviour, Sameson."

"So you say. But I have my sources." He suddenly grabbed a hold of Harry and threw his weight onto the floor, his hands fisted in Harry's shirt and holding him there.

"Sameson, let go of me," Harry said in a calm voice, his wrists trapped between Sameson's hands.

"I hear you're a cop," Sameson said, ignoring Harry's request. "I also hear you have a pointy little stick they call a 'wand' and that you always have it on you." Sameson used his own body weight to pin down Harry, while he took a hand and started feeling Harry up, trying to find his wand. When he touched Harry's crotch for an exorbitantly long amount of time, Harry glared.

"It's not _there_, if that's what you're thinking."

Sameson smirked. "I wasn't. Just thought it'd be nice to get in another feel before I destroy you."

Harry started to really struggle. "You sick fuck. You don't know the _meaning_ of destroy. I could render you in two with a few whispered words, if I wanted."

Sameson leaned back a little. "Really? Then go right ahead." When Harry didn't move, he laughed. "You need your pointy stick, don't you?"

Harry snarled. "You're sort of pinning me down, you jackass."

"One thing I have that you people don't. The ability to fight with my bare hands." And then Harry knew nothing but pain blossoming from his jaw and nose and cheek. He looked back up at Sameson, and spit a little bloody saliva in his face.

Sameson snarled and wrenched Harry up, just to throw him down again, his head hitting the harder edge of the couch's armrest, but that didn't stop him from managing to tear one hand out of Sameson's grip and punch him in the nose.

James cursed and swore, raising a hand to his quickly bruising face. Harry wrenched himself away this time, pushing James to the side and scrambling up to his feet, bending over to quickly draw his wand.

He had it out and pointing straight at James, who was now regaining his footing, touching his tender nose.

"You nearly broke it, you sonofabitch."

"I can fight just as dirty," Harry said coldly, his wand steadily pointed at James' chest. "I wasn't raised a wizard, James."

"So what now? You gonna cast a spell on me?" he taunted.

Harry frowned. "I never wanted to have to, Sameson. But you're leaving me little choice. Unless you take me to the artefact, and tell me who gave it to you, this game is over for you. My 'people' will not be so lenient with you, and have ways of putting you away via your own government for a very long time."

"Like I haven't done a little time before."

"Not like this you haven't. Now, hand over the artefact. I am more than positive you don't have any real idea of the consequences, if it were used."

"Oh, I am _perfectly_ aware. And I'm not stupid enough to hand over something that could make me a mint, and give me the type of power I've wanted for years now."

"You don't plan on using it, do you? Is that what your contact promised you? Fuck, Jamie, whoever it is, what makes you think they won't go back on their word? They're probably just using you. What use would they have for a Muggle anyhow? You do realise that putting that into the hands of anyone with even the slightest bit of power and no restraint will end our way of life, don't you? What do you think they'll do when they have the power and can do whatever they want to you? There are enough natural-born wizards that hate you just because you don't have magic. And trust me; you're hated even more if your blood isn't purely magical."

Sameson shrugged. "Why not make everyone a wizard then, Harry? Then everyone would have the power you do."

"Because there were meant to be certain balances on the earth, Jamie. Good and evil can't exist without the other. There's no light without dark. Magic can't exist in humans without the absence of it in others. Wizards and witches can't be magical if the earth itself has no power. That artefact will take that power away from the earth, and eventually destroy it."

"We're destroying it anyway, Harry. With our pollution, and waste and war. Why keep hiding it? Why hide who you are? Why not change the world with your magic? That's what it's there for, isn't it?"

Harry shook his head. "There is war and pollution and waste in our world too, Jamie. And there are more of you than there are of us. Magic scares people. Why do you think we hide?"

"Because you don't harness what power you do have to the full extent. I've _felt_ magic, Harry. I know what it can do to people. What it can make them do."

Harry frowned. "Wait – has your contact put you under a spell? A spell that makes you do things against your will?"

Sameson smirked. "No, Harry. But I have seen a demonstration or two. It was rather fun to watch."

"You're sick, Sameson."

"Stop calling me that!" Sameson took a few steps forward, his fists at his sides, and Harry's slowly falling wand jerked back up again.

"How can you take pleasure in watching someone do something they don't wish to? Or watch someone in pain?" When Sameson didn't answer right away, Harry said, shaking his head, "I guess I never knew you at all."

"No, Harry. You knew what I let you know. You were the one that lied to me."

"I'm sorry, Jamie, but it was necessary. Would you have gone for me, if you knew I was a cop? Even if you didn't know I was a wizard?"

"You might as well hit me with a spell now and get it over with. But I'm not telling you anything about the artefact or who gave it to me."

"Jamie, please-"

"Stop it! Stop acting like you fucking care!"

"But I do!" Harry yelled, wondering why he did really care.

"You played me the second you saw me. You and that little blond twink. You don't even have a roommate, Harry! He's your fucking _partner_! He didn't get in with me, so he sent you along. Probably forced you, is like. You're not even gay!"

"Even if I were the straightest guy on earth, I would still care, Jamie!"

"STOP FUCKING ACTING!" James leapt the few steps to Harry, ramming him against the wall behind him. He stole the wand right out from Harry's hand, throwing it across the flat to land in the kitchen, where it skittered across the linoleum and stopped nearly underneath the fridge.

Harry struggled uselessly to regain control. James was just far too big for Harry to overpower him.

"A-accio…" He tried to call his wand back to him, but James' forearm was pressing on his throat.

"I was actually starting to like you, Harry."

Harry's eyes locked with Jamie's just a second before everything went dark in an explosion of pain.

* * *

_9:__57pm _

"…No, of course not. I've got him secure. Yes, I took his wand away. No, I don't think he's been able to alert his partner. Okay. I'll see you soon."

There was a small clack, and Harry recognised the sound of a mobile snapping shut through the pain in his head. He groaned slightly, and tried to move his head to a more comfortable position, but the light behind him was blinding, and the carpet underneath his cheek was rough and somehow wet.

"You're awake. Great." Harry didn't get much choice in his new position, he soon realised. James had tied his hands roughly and tightly behind his back and grabbed his shoulders to yank him into a sitting position. Harry could now see what had made the old carpet wet…he had been bleeding rather profusely it looked, probably from his nose.

_Fuck._

James knelt down in front of him. "Well, your glasses aren't broken. That's a good thing, I suppose. You should be able to see the company that's going to be here with very clear vision. He's been dying to meet you."

"Fuck you, Sameson."

Sameson sighed. "I really hate when people call me that, Harry." He leaned forward and whispered dangerously in Harry's ear, "So stop doing it."

James then stood. "You know, for someone who's apparently very powerful and skilful with his wand, it sure was easy to take you down."

"Might I point out that you're nearly twice the size of me?" Harry glared.

James shrugged. "You should have hexed me, Harry. But you had to try and talk some sense into me. That will prove to be your downfall." James knelt back down and leaned in really close. "I _will_ be getting the power I deserve. I've been waiting for nearly twenty years, and not you or any silly, magical fags are going to stop me from getting it."

"You're mad."

"And you're a pathetic excuse for a wizard." James stood and went into the kitchen, where he appeared to be cleaning up.

Something puzzled Harry. "How is it you know so much about wizards?"

"I'm sure you're smart enough to realise that my contact has told me things, Harry." Sameson was wiping down the counter, acting as though this was a normal conversation.

"What has he told you?"

"Not much more than I already knew."

"Wait, you knew about us _before_?"

James smirked. "Let's just say I had my suspicions. My contact only confirmed them."

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "Who is it? Jamie, please tell me."

James shook his head in return. "No can do, Harry. You'll just have to wait until he gets here."

"And when will that be?"

"Soon."

* * *

_10:15pm_

"_Where are you_?" Harry heard Sameson whisper furiously. "You'd think you'd like to get here—what? No, he's not being a problem. He's still tied up. What's the problem? Are you closing in? Does someone…? Fine, but just get here soon."

James snapped shut his mobile and slipped it into his pocket, picking up a kitchen knife he had just cleaned, and started juggling it one handed, a sour look on his face.

Harry felt his face itch where James hadn't wiped away the blood. Now, that had been a rather awkward moment. James had cleaned himself up while Harry had been unconscious, and then took the time to tend to some of the mess on Harry's own face.

"James?"

"_What_?"

"I need to use the bathroom."

"You can hold it."

"I really can't. You know me, one drink and I'm-"

"They always say that, you know."

"You normally have people tied up in your living room?"

James glared. "They say it so they can have an opportunity to escape. I'm not untying you, Harry."

"Jamie, I'm not just saying that. I really do have to go."

"Fine. But you're going to have to find your own way out of that rope. The only way that knot can be undone is with a knife."

Harry sighed. "I've noticed. My arms went numb about five minutes ago."

"Okay then." James walked past Harry and into the bedroom. He returned with a pistol. Harry stared at it with growing unease. "This, Harry, is a Glock 17 9mm. Nothing particularly special, but it can kill you." He released the clip and showed it to Harry, who was looking up from the floor with a determinedly straight face. He wasn't going to panic.

"As you can see, it is fully loaded." James replaced the clip and pointed it straight at Harry's head. "And the safety's off." Leaning down, James grabbed Harry by the arm and hoisted him to his feet. Continuing to aim the gun at Harry's face, he said, "Turn around and walk into the bathroom."

Harry did as he was told, walking somewhat unsteadily through the bathroom door next to where he had been sitting. James pushed him slightly on the back, causing him to stumble the rest of the way into the dark room. James flipped on the light, and Harry looked over his shoulder to see James staring down the gun at him.

"I'm going to cut the rope. Try anything funny, and you'll get a bullet in your head." James took the kitchen knife he had slipped into his back pocket out and moved slowly behind Harry.

Harry swallowed. How the hell was he supposed to take a piss with James standing right there?

_Think, Harry, think!_

Harry cried out at the pain of his shoulders falling back into place. "Ow, fuck…" He held his hands up, examining the slight rope burn the synthetic material left on his wrists. Rolling his shoulders to loosen them up and shaking his hands to get back some feeling in them besides pins and needles, he turned and glared at his captor.

"Sorry, Harry. It had to be done."

"So I can't get away and call my partner?"

"Draco Malfoy? Yes. That blond tease. I hear he's actually the gay one."

"Who the fuck do you know, James? You sound like you've been reading personnel files on us."

James shrugged. "Maybe I have been." He shoved Harry's shoulder. "Now take a piss already so I can tie you back up. It may not seem like it, but I really don't want to have to shoot you."

"I don't know if I can."

"What?"

"I mean, with you standing right there…"

"Oh, no, you're not getting me with _that_. I'm not leaving you alone. You better figure out how to piss with me in the room, because I'm not leaving."

"I _know_ that. I'm just saying…it might take me a minute."

"You have five."

Sighing, Harry turned back to the toilet, fidgeting with his belt and fly. He was just about to pull himself out when he felt James move directly to the small space behind him. He could feel the heat of James' body against his back and his breath on his neck.

"Jamie, what are you doing?"

"It's really too bad things had to turn out this way, Harry."

"I take it you mean something other than the fact that you have a gun pointed at the back of my head."

Jamie ran a hand down Harry's arm, encircling his wrist with strong fingers. "You're still hot, Harry." He breathed in Harry's ear, whispering, "It's too bad you're not gay, either."

"Nor am I straight."

He turned Harry around to look him in the eye. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to Harry's, kissing him for a few moments. Harry stood there, unresponsive, and not sure how to respond, but not particularly sure if pulling away violently like he wanted to would be the best decision, considering the circumstances.

When James pulled away, he asked, "Why didn't you kiss me back, Harry?"

"It's hard to feel in the mood when someone has a deadly weapon pointed at me."

James didn't lower the gun. Instead, he smirked. "You may think I'm crazy, but I did sorta like you."

Harry turned around to continue trying to use the loo. "So you've said."

"Did I turn you a little, Harry?"

Harry turned back around, one more time. "No. Draco did."

Jamie backhanded him across the face, skewing Harry's glasses on his nose. When Harry moved his head to look at James again, the larger man took his thumb and wiped the blood away from the corner of Harry's lip.

"I don't understand you, Jamie."

"And you never will."

As Harry turned back around, Jamie said, "You lied to me."

"You lied to me too," was Harry's response. He managed to take care of business, as long as he concentrated on other things besides the fact that there was a man with a gun directly behind him. As he zipped up his fly and buckled his belt, he focused very hard and measured his movements just as carefully.

He turned around quickly, but it felt like it was in slow motion; his right arm flew out, knocking James' gun-hand away and to the side; with his left hand, palm open, he ducked the punch coming from his left.

"Accio wand!" He barely needed to say the incantation as the wand had already slapped into his palm, his fingers curling around the wood and then he had it pointing it up at Sameson before the man had a chance to bring up the gun again.

They stood there in the narrow bathroom, in a face-off that pushed the odds; gun vs. wand, trained on one another.

Harry tracked Sameson's movements very carefully; he had to time this just right…

_I'm not going to make the same mistake twice._

He leaned sharply to the left, just as James pulled the trigger, and yelled out, '_Stupefy!_' as the bullet whizzed past his ear.

James flew back with a cracking force into the shower stall while Harry dashed out of the room, intent on grabbing his jacket and getting to Draco. It was unspoken that he needed backup.

He didn't get much farther than putting his jacket on and opening the door however, as James yanked him back by his hair, the gun now at his throat.

"Tricky, tricky, Harry…I didn't realise you could call your wand like that…"

_How the…?_ Harry thought quickly. Getting out of Jamie's hold was out of the question. Draco said it; you can't dodge bullets. No spell can shield against physical attacks, unless a talisman has been charmed to do such things…

Harry had just figured out how James had managed to shake off the stunning curse when all he saw was blackness as James hit him in the temple with the butt of the gun.

* * *

_11:28pm_

"Harry! Harry, wake up now…it's time for your life lesson…"

"No…" Harry said weakly. "No more lessons, Draco."

There was an annoyed chuckle. It was accompanied by a violent shake. "Harry! Time's up!"

Harry groaned as he realised where he was. He was tied up again, leaning against the wall. His arms felt like they had been wrenched out of their sockets. He cracked his eyes open. Jamie was kneeling right in front of him again.

"What…what time is it?"

"Nearly eleven thirty. You've been passed out a while now. In fact, my contact has come and gone, content to drag this out, I suppose. Perhaps he wanted to prep for the next stage in this plan of his."

"Malfoy will come looking for me…"

"Oh, I'm sure he will. In fact, we're counting on it. I was thinking he'd be here sooner. I have a feeling he doesn't like me much."

Harry looked up at James. One of his lenses was cracked, and he could feel the cuts on his face something fierce. Not to mention his ribs…

"Ow…" he said, leaning forward slightly. "What the fuck happened while I was out?"

"I must admit, I had to restrain my friend. He had a problem controlling this jerk in his leg, I think."

"You let him kick me?"

James ignored the question. "Ready for your lesson, Harry?"

"Lesson? About what?"

"Why your spells won't work on me."

Harry glared as much as he could through the pain in his head. "Fine. I'll take the bait. Why?"

"A few reasons, but I'll tell you the most obvious. This," he fished in his shirt and pulled out a necklace, which had a small, round, metallic ball dangling from a pewter setting. "No, it's not the artefact, if that's what you're thinking. It's a gift. From a friend."

"He charmed it to take the brunt of any spell cast at you."

"Good job! You get an A+ Mister Potter! In deductive reasoning, at least. However, your marks are rather poor in tactics."

"Fuck you."

James slapped him across the face. "Now, now. That's no way to speak to your professor."

"Just quit it with the bullshit, okay?"

"Yes, sir," Jamie mocked, saluting and standing up to walk over and lean against the back of the couch.

"Where's my wand?" Harry asked, following his movements.

"Oh, right here," he replied, pulling the wand out from his back pocket, along with the kitchen knife from before. "I thought about breaking it in half, but then I started studying it. It doesn't look like anything special. But I bet it is, isn't it?" he said, sending Harry a condescending smirk. "I mean…you can't really do magic without it, can you?"

"Sameson, put my wand down. I know you're not going to give it back to me, but don't play around with it."

"Why? Would you be worried if I did this?" And Jamie put a little nick in it with the tip of the knife.

"Jamie, don't!"

"Why? Will it not work?" He pointed the wand at Harry. "Abracadabra!" The wand lay dormant. "Well, it looks like it doesn't work anyhow."

"That's because you're not a wizard," Harry bit out, feeling very agitated. The loss of blood, the pain…his magic was becoming unstable under his skin, prowling like a tiger to get out.

"That wasn't very nice. What if I wanted to be? Wouldn't I need one? Maybe I should just take yours."

"It doesn't work that way."

"Then how does it work, Harry? I saw you bring the wand to yourself…so how is it you need this again?"

"It's called wandless magic."

"Wandless, huh? Interesting…" James studied the wand for a moment before putting it away and pulling out his gun from the front of his jeans. "Now this…this is something _anyone_ can use. And you couldn't do anything about it, could you, Harry?" He pointed the gun at Harry's head. Harry was getting rather tired of seeing the wrong end of a gun.

"Neither could you."

Jamie chuckled. "Perhaps that's so. Either way, my contact will be back shortly. He's just _dying_ to meet you face to face."

"Likewise."

Harry's magic burst out in a blast of power that knocked James back a little, and freed Harry from his restraints. He rolled out of the way as a bullet came flying over his right shoulder, plaster from the wall flying everywhere. On his feet, he dove for Sameson's, hoping to knock him off balance. His tactic worked, for a moment, but then they were struggling, landing punches and rolling over and over. Harry managed to knock the gun away, but then Jamie had his knife out, and pinned Harry down, bringing the knife down as well.

Harry blocked James the best he could, but the man was so much stronger than he, and finally the knife went into his shoulder, right near the joint. Harry let out a strangled scream. They struggled for a moment, the knife going deeper and moving slightly. The pain was excruciating, but Harry focused his power again, and instantly, Jamie was pushed back by an invisible force. However, the necklace around his throat still took the brunt of the magic, and as Harry was pulling the knife from his shoulder, Jamie leapt at him again. Though Harry was in pain, he was on an adrenaline rush now, and used Jamie's weight to flip them around. Harry straddled Jamie's waist and brought down his elbow, hard, on Jamie's face. The man howled in pain as blood burst from his nose, and Harry did it again and again until Jamie was knocked out.

Harry wasted no time; he pushed Jamie over, took a hold of his wand and Apparated back to the hotel.

* * *

_12:__05am_

"Oh my god – Harry!" Draco exclaimed, stepping forward and putting a hand on the other man's left shoulder, meaning to turn him around. Harry swayed dangerously under the slight pressure, and Draco stepped forward again to catch him as he fell backwards.

Harry gripped Draco's arm with his right hand, trying to regain his balance. "Malfoy…" he said in a raspy whisper, and Draco couldn't keep his eyes from widening in horror and his mouth opening in shock at the cuts and bruises on Harry's face. His glasses were cracked in one lens, and the frames were slightly bent. His face had so much blood…

"Oh my god…Potter, what the fuck did he do to you?" Draco said angrily, as Harry swayed again, wincing as his injured shoulder pressed against Draco's chest.

"He knows. Knows what we are."

"Did he use the artefact?"

Harry shook his head. "No."

Draco gently pulled Harry to his bed, making him lay back. "Where was your wand?" he asked as he crawled over Harry and grabbed his own wand from the bedside table, using it to conjure a water-filled basin and a washcloth, which he set on a conjured tray on the bed beside him.

"Took it away…" Harry mumbled softly, closing his eyes.

"No, Potter. Stay awake. You gotta stay awake. Tell me what happened."

"My shoulder…it hurts…" he replied, wincing as a throbbing pain came over him.

"I know. I'm going to banish your clothes away, okay? Don't move."

Once Draco spelled Harry's shirt and jacket across the room, he saw exactly what was causing Harry so much pain. There was a two inch cut, deep into the joint of Harry's shoulder. It was slightly jagged at the ends, like James had jabbed it in and then it moved around as they struggled. There were also several ugly bruises on his ribs and stomach.

"Fucking Merlin."

"That bad, huh?" Harry joked, laughing softly.

"Dammit, Potter, this is no time to be making jokes, he could have killed you. I need to heal you so we can go kill the fucking sonofabitch." Taking a deep breath to release some tension, Draco sighed, picking up the washcloth and dousing it in warm water before tenderly cleaning the worst of the wounds he could see. Harry winced. "I'm sorry," Draco murmured, the statement hanging thick with meaning in the air. "I'm sorry I didn't cast the comm spell when I had the chance. I should have. I would have been there to stop the bloody prick."

"You _were_ there, then," Harry whispered, looking up at Draco. In the better light, Draco could see that where Harry's glasses met the bridge of his nose, there was a deep gash that was seeping blood into his eyes.

"Do you have anymore injuries I can't see?" Draco asked, taking the man's glasses, repairing them and setting them aside, ignoring the question.

Harry shook his head. "Not that I know of. I just hurt."

Draco sighed, dipping the washcloth into the water to clean it. "Merlin, Harry…" He wrung out the wash cloth and got to working on cleaning his face and arm.

Harry scrunched up his face, and then gasped as the cut on his nose made itself known. "Why don't you just spell the blood away?"

Draco shrugged. "We did it this way last time."

"You mean when I broke your ribs?"

Draco met Harry's eyes. Smiling softly he continued his cleaning, replying, "Yeah." After a long pause he continued, "And then you put me back together."

Harry smiled lazily, nodding, before closing his eyes.

Draco shook him, panic in his voice. "Potter? Potter, wake up! Stay with me, okay?"

Harry opened his eyes. "Can't you just heal me already?" He sounded tired.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes. Lie still."

Harry did as he was told without much effort, and Draco took his wand, using the strongest healing charm he knew for the wound in Harry's shoulder, which knitted back together alright for the most part, but Draco could tell it was going to scar badly. The cuts and bruises on Harry's face and stomach faded away like they had never been there, and Draco breathed a sign of relief. Harry would start to feel much better and a little more coherent soon.

"I'll have to get some salve for your shoulder from my flat; I'll be right back."

Harry, even though it caused him to wince, put out his left hand to stop the blond. "No, wait. Stay."

"Potter, that wound will scar if I don't put something on it right away-"

Harry shrugged, running a hand over his face and through his hair. "It's just another scar. Hand me my glasses, would you?"

Draco frowned, handing them over. "Potter…"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm feeling much better. You've fixed me back up, don't worry," he said, moving to sit up. Draco pushed him back down.

"Potter, don't move. You've probably lost a lot of blood, and I don't need you passing out and hitting your head when I just fixed you up. Especially since we need to plan a revenge scheme." Draco looked off and glared at nothing in particular.

Harry was quiet a moment before he said, "You just want me in bed, don't you?"

Draco blinked, returning his attention to the black-haired man staring up at him. "What?"

Harry smiled again, this time with more amusement, and before Draco could really react, Harry grabbed a fistful of his tee-shirt and yanked him down, so they were maybe two inches apart and said, "Kiss me."

"What?" Draco repeated.

"I _said_, kiss me."

Draco looked at Harry for a long moment, trying to decide if he was hallucinating. "Potter…you must have a concussion. Do you not remem-"

And then Harry was kissing him and Draco couldn't decide how to react, but the kiss was unbearably intoxicating and he quickly found himself returning it. It felt so good, Draco thought, breathing Harry in, feeling his lips against his own, feeling Harry's hands running up his arms and through his hair…

But then Harry gasped and pulled away sharply as the wound in his shoulder shot pain down his arm.

Breathing hard, Draco asked, "You okay?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. My shoulder. It still smarts."

Draco sat back, regaining his composure behind a mask, just looking at Harry for a moment.

Harry propped himself up on his good arm. "Draco?"

"Why? Why'd you want me to kiss you? I thought you hated it."

Harry frowned. "Why do you think that?"

"Because…" Draco started; feeling like his reasoning was rather stupid now that he had to voice it out loud. "Because I heard what you said."

"And what did I say?"

Draco looked away. "That you wanted to forget about me." He wasn't hurt – he _wasn't_ – but Merlin, did it sound so stupid. Harry was here _now_, wasn't he?

Harry looked puzzled for a moment before appearing to remember. Then he replied, "You actually believe I'd mean something like that?"

Draco shrugged. "It's probable."

"And 'us' isn't?"

Draco frowned. "'Us' is impossible."

After a long pause in which Draco decided Potter was trying to find a response to his statement, he was surprised that Harry changed the topic and said instead, "What I said was a partial lie, Draco."

Draco looked back to him, calculating. "Only partial? Meaning partially true."

Harry pushed himself up into a sitting position, looking Draco directly in the eye. "Meaning that I couldn't forget about you. I didn't hate it, Draco. I still don't know if I could…be with a man, but I…I couldn't stop thinking about that kiss, and it was distracting me. From doing the job."

Draco pressed his lips together. "So did you find out where it is? The artefact?" he said, feeling the need to change the subject again in case he either grabbed a hold of Potter to strangle him or to snog him bloody senseless.

Harry shook his head. "No. He attacked me before I had a chance to do any digging."

Draco's gaze turned dark and distant. "I'm going to kill that mother fucker."

"Not before I kill him first," said Harry.

Draco frowned. "You're not going anywhere. He could have _killed_ you, Potter."

"Which gives me more right than you to do the same to him."

Huffing, Draco moved off the bed to stand. "I'm going to my flat to get that salve." He shoved on a pair of socks and sneakers. "Did he break your wand?"

Harry smiled. "No. I managed to get it back. How do you think I Disapparated?"

Draco shrugged. "For all I know, the great boy-wizard knows more complex wandless magic than he lets on." And the blond left without another word.

* * *

Harry knew what Draco meant by those last words. For all the blond knew, Harry really _did_ know whether or not he was gay. 

_Well…I like _you_, isn't that good enough?_

Of course it wasn't good enough. Not for Draco Malfoy.

Harry sighed, and flopped back down onto the bed. He knew what it looked like; after his and Draco's first kiss he went running off to his date with James. As if he really did hate it.

_He doesn't understand. Kissing James and letting him grope me was nothing compared to what I felt when _he_ kissed me. _

Harry had been terrified. It had been like a floodgate had burst open with enough force to knock him onto his bum, and he would have fallen over if it hadn't have been for Draco holding him up. Harry didn't have any idea that all the tension between them was the result of some underlying sexual attraction, and it had taken the bike ride to James' and a good smack in the face for him to realise just how much.

Harry had thought just coming out with his intentions loud and clear would be the best course of action – to get it across to Malfoy without all the mess of words. Harry was never all that great with them anyhow. But apparently, Draco was too set on exacting revenge to really take Harry's intentions to heart. Either that, or there was a lot more to Malfoy than even Harry had imagined.

Well, Harry wanted to know it all; he wasn't diving into this for a fling; he fully intended to get under Malfoy's skin; in a way he hadn't before.

The fact that he nearly died several times that night gave Harry cause to not let any opportunity with Draco pass him by, even if this wasn't the best time to do it. Who knows what would happen next?

Just then, Draco Apparated back into the room, jar of salve in hand, and Harry got to his feet.

Draco sighed. "Potter, lay back down."

"No." Harry grabbed the jar and opened it, scooping out a bit of the paste and smoothing it over his wound. Then he set the jar on the table. "There. All taken care of. Now, are we going to address this?"

"Killing Sameson James? Yes, I think we should figure out something quick, before he thinks about skipping town."

Harry let out a short, frustrated breath. "Malfoy, I'm talking about _this_." And then Harry grabbed Draco's shirt and pushed him up against the wall, his lips crashing against Draco's before the blond even had a chance to take a breath.

Even though Draco kissed him back, the blond put his hands on Harry's shoulders and pushed him away, gently but firmly. "Potter, what are you doing?"

Harry, frustrated frown on his face, looked up at Draco. "You're making this difficult, Malfoy."

"Making _what_ difficult?"

"I'm trying to tell you how I feel, and you keep asking me what I'm doing, like it isn't obvious!"

"How am I supposed to know how you feel when you're not _saying_ anything?!"

"Because actions speak louder than words!"

"Then I guess whatever you're feeling for me you're feeling for James too!"

Harry stopped, blinking. "_What?_"

"You heard me. If actions speak louder than words, you must wanna fuck James."

"This isn't about fucking, Malfoy! And how could you say something like that considering what he did to me tonight?" Harry stepped closer, jabbing his finger into Draco's chest. "You told me you wanted me, and then kissed me to prove it. Well listen up, Malfoy. I want you too." And Harry kissed Draco again, putting his hands on the back of Draco's head so he couldn't pull away.

But Draco didn't even try. He kissed Harry back with the same intensity – that same intensity that had Harry melting at the knees a few hours before.

"Potter, do you even know what wanting me means?" Draco asked between kisses, trying to make sure that Harry was thinking things through.

Harry pulled away for second, holding Draco's gaze. "Anything I don't know, you can show me. I trust you."

Their lips met again, and again and again, and then Draco was pushing Harry back to the bed. "Merlin, I want you so bad, Harry." Draco hovered over him, Harry's torso propped up by his elbows.

"How long?" Harry asked. "How long have you wanted me?"

"Since the night James took you to Mr. Choy's."

Harry, unable to stop himself, let out a tiny whimper before pulling Draco down in a hurried but passionate kiss. Draco moaned, saying against Harry's mouth, "I want you all around me…I want to make you moan louder than James could ever make you…"

Harry, realising what Draco said, pulled back. "What?"

Draco looked down at him. "I want to make you forget James ever existed."

"No, no. Before that."

Draco frowned, puzzled. "I want you all around me…?" he asked, before smiling and leaning down to kiss Harry's jaw line. "I want to be inside you, Harry."

Harry pushed Draco away. "Wait, no. No, I can't do that."

Draco looked confused. "Well, then, what do you want?"

"You…" Harry said, his voice wavering in uncertainty.

"Well, you're getting me."

"But not that way. I'm not…ready for _that_. James asked me to do the same thing. I can't."

Biting his lip, Draco nodded in understanding. "Right. Okay." He leaned forward and kissed Harry on the cheek. In his ear he whispered with a lilt to his voice, "How about if you're inside me?"

Harry's breath shuddered in Draco's ear. "That-that would be okay."

"Only okay?"

"Let me fuck you, Draco," Harry pleaded breathlessly.

The blond sat up. "Oh, no, Potter. You may be inside me, but I'm fucking _you_."

This caused Harry to whimper again, and he arched his back as Draco ran his hands over Harry's chest, teasing his nipples slightly with his thumbs. Harry grabbed onto Draco's forearms and pulled him down and over, switching their positions so Draco was below him looking up.

"I don't think so, Potter," Malfoy said, and pushed Harry back to their original position. He leaned down and said, chuckling, "You're already a bottom, and you don't even know it."

"Like fuck I am, Malfoy," Harry practically snarled, and wrestled for positions again. Harry wound up on the bottom, Draco pinning his shoulders down. Sitting up, Draco straddled Harry's hips and pulled off his tee-shirt, throwing it off to the side. Harry sat up himself, holding Draco in his arms, letting his hands run over the creamy expanse of Draco's back and hooking over his shoulders from behind, kissing his neck and chest.

"Mmmm…" Draco hummed, threading his fingers through Harry's unruly hair.

Harry's fingers teased the waistband of Draco's pyjamas before finally sneaking inside, rubbing small circles at the crest of Draco's bum. But before Harry could fully enjoy his new findings, Draco pushed him roughly back, then grabbed a hold of Harry's belt and started to undo it. It was fast and rough and quick, and before Harry could think, Draco had his jeans and his pants down to his ankles, where the man helped by kicking them off, just as Draco took Harry into his mouth.

"God, Malfoy…" Harry groaned, his back arching. Draco's mouth felt _so_ good…it was hot, and wet, and Harry decided that Draco was _really_ good at that suction thing before the blond pulled away slowly and ran the flat of his tongue up Harry's stomach and chest, causing Harry to whimper, "No, don't stop…"

"Nothing could make me stop, Harry," Draco said, nibbling and sucking at Harry's nipples. While he knelt over Harry, he pushed the last of his clothes off, sliding the silk pyjamas over his ass and down his legs. "Are you ready?"

Harry took a moment to finally look at Draco's entire body, up close and in full view for the first time, before pulling him down and into a passion-filled kiss. He moaned deep in his chest as Draco lay completely on top of him, the heat and pressure intoxicating them both.

"Are you ready?" Draco asked again, breathless.

Harry took a deep breath. "Yes. Let's do it."

"You know the protection spell?" the blond asked, taking his wand from the end table and conjuring a jar of lube.

Harry nodded. "Yeah," he said, his breath hitching as he cast the spell wandlessly.

Draco held out the jar to him. Harry looked puzzled. "I want you to do it. Prepare me."

"But I don't know what I'm doing."

Draco leaned down, whispering in an intimate way, just what Harry could do to please him. _Them_.

Harry sucked in what he hoped didn't sound like a nervous breath, and began, using the lube in the way Draco told him, getting excited by the way Draco reacted to his touch, amazed at the way his own body was reacting to what he was doing.

Draco finally made him stop, by moving out of reach. "Okay, I need you _now_," he said in a rush. "Lube yourself up. Be generous." Draco grabbed the lube and presented it to Harry, trailing kisses down his neck and chest while Harry scooped up some of the substance and reached down between them to rub it over himself, feeling the throb and pulse in his hand with want at the stimulation.

"Are you sure you're ready?" he asked Draco. "Not to sound immodest, but two of my fingers are still smaller around than…"

"Your cock?" Draco said with a smirk. "I know. That's the best part. You finished?" Harry nodded.

"Okay, Potter…just hold yourself like that – yeah…and I'll do the rest."

Harry sucked in a breath and gazed up at Draco, who was looking at him with a slightly predatory glint in his eye, and licking his bottom lip in a way that caused Harry to press his free fingers into Draco's hip.

Draco's predatory look turned down-right feral as he shifted around and lined himself up before pushing down a little. He grunted at the pain and clawed his fingers into the duvet.

"You okay?" Harry asked, trying to steady is own breath as the intense sensations from even being a little way into Draco threatened to overwhelm him. He smoothed his palm over Draco's thigh.

Draco nodded. "Yeah. It's just been…a long time."

"Usually on top?"

Draco smirked. "Heh. Always." He dove down and kissed Harry fiercely, pushing himself further onto Harry, and Harry brought both hands up to Draco's face, kissing him with a vehement ferocity before having to pull away to breathe properly.

"Oh god…Malfoy…" Harry groaned, turning his head to the side for a moment.

Draco sat up slightly, bracing his hands on Harry's chest and pushing himself down at the same time. Harry's hands desperately needed something to grab onto, and his fingers found purchase on Draco's hips. His own hips thrust up involuntarily, and Draco's breath hitched and his back arched.

"Mmmm…Potter, keep doing that. Don't stop."

Harry took his cue and moved his hips up, slowly, enjoying the way Draco's eyelashes fluttered as he moved steadily in and out of the blond above him. Watching Draco was like sex itself, and while Harry was in a half-shocked state about just what he and his partner were doing, it felt so fucking good he couldn't concentrate on much more than the way Draco looked down at him like _he_ was in control, even though Harry was controlling all the movement. The way the muscles in Draco's chest and stomach flexed was distracting too, because Harry had never felt more attracted to a person in his life, and even if Draco's weight wasn't pressing down on his chest, he knew he wouldn't be able to breathe just from the sheer intensity of Draco Malfoy.

Before Harry knew it, they had built up a rhythm, and animal need was forming in Harry's mind like a mist, muddling his thoughts and heightening the sensations. At one point, Harry just watched Draco, going through the movements as if on auto-pilot, and he could tell that the blond loved the attention. He lifted up his hands, running them up his torso, teasing his nipples and then running back down, giving Harry a show he knew he would never forget.

The mist turned into a fog, and that animal need took control, demanding that Harry give Draco the fucking of his life.

Draco then attacked Harry's mouth, brutal and bruising, biting his bottom lip. Harry, driven by primal need, grabbed a hold of Draco's hips with his own bruising fingers, and fell off the edge of conscious thought, and knew nothing more than Draco's mouth, his skin, his smell, and himself, plunging deep inside Draco, rough and unforgiving.

Draco was making beautiful noises above him, biting his lip and shutting his eyes tight as if eyesight was one sense that his brain couldn't handle dealing with; the ecstasy he was feeling was just too great. Harry couldn't tear his eyes away.

Draco finally opened his eyes, locking gazes with Harry for a moment, who was grunting with the effort to dive deeper inside, to go deeper inside Draco than anyone had been before. Draco kissed him, a somewhat bumbling effort because Harry was pounding into him so hard that he couldn't quite make his lips meet Harry's properly, but then Harry took his bruising hands off of his hips and wrapped them around Draco's shoulders, kissing him so hard the blond couldn't breathe, and once Draco got his wind back he whispered,

"Yes, Harry…oh god…don't stop, don't ever stop…"

Harry, breathing hard, replied, gasping, "I won't. I can't."

Draco moved back to brace his weight on Harry's chest, his bodyweight driving Harry in farther. "Oh, god, Harry…ah!"

The world for Harry went black with utter ecstasy for a moment, his body arching with pleasure, the image of Draco coming burned into his brain forever.

Harry opened his eyes, his smudged glasses blurring his vision. He took them off, tossing them on the nightstand and looked up at Draco, whose face was now mere centimetres from his as he lay down on top of Harry.

Their breath mingled hotly, a sheen of sweat making Draco's skin slick against Harry's hands, the blonde's weight pleasantly warm and heavy against his chest.

The looked at each other for a long while; Harry was idly running his hands slowly across Draco's back, while Draco ran his fingers through Harry's hair and caressed his cheeks.

They shared a soft, lingering kiss, exhausted and happy and in wonderment. Slowly, tiredly, Draco slid off of Harry and to the side, lying on his side for a moment to look at Harry's profile before falling onto his back.

"Sorry I stopped," Harry offered. Draco took the pillow above his head and flung it at the other man's face. Laughing, Harry took it away and let it fall to the floor. "What was that for?"

Draco shrugged. "Because, Potter, you're really just so bleeding dim at times."

"Dim? What do you mean?"

"And there we go again." Draco turned back to Harry, propping himself up on one elbow. "That was the best fucking orgasm of my life, Potter. Who fucking cares if you had to stop? That just means we get to do it all over again." He grinned brilliantly, and Harry felt himself fall again.

"Really? I was that good?"

Draco rolled his eyes. Leaning forward he said, "You know, while having random sexual encounters is fun, there _is_ something to be said for having sex with someone you actually have feelings for, Harry."

Blushing, Harry looked down at his messy abdomen. Draco's come was cold and starting to dry in places. "I know that."

"What? Don't tell me that wasn't the best sex you've ever had."

Harry bit his lip and reached around for Draco's wand, hoping to have the man clean him up, since gods knew where his wand was at the moment.

At Harry's hesitation, Draco said worriedly, "It was, wasn't it?"

Harry gave up his search for the blonde's wand. He released his lip and turned to Draco with a serious face. He could tell the blond was starting to sweat about the topic.

Suddenly, Harry pounced on Draco, pinning him to the bed and attacking his neck. Sitting up he said, "_Of course_ it was; it was bloody fantastic!"

Draco laughed, and they wrestled a little, falling into a comfortable heap of sweaty, entangled limbs.

After a few moments of Harry wondering why things weren't feeling more awkward between them, and then dismissing it because it was fucking fantastic and it didn't matter, he said, "Mmmm…well, you do know it's kind of hard to compare to the other sex I've had, Draco." His brow furrowed as he pulled out Draco's wand from where it was lying uncomfortably under his head.

"Oh? How's that?"

"Now who's being dim? I've only had sex with women, Draco. With…one, to be exact; but still, even though it was a little different with you, that didn't mean it wasn't absolutely wonderful."

"See? You are gay."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Maybe. We'll see."

"Oh, come on… You're not going to play the 'bi' card on me, are you? After what we just did?"

"What do you mean, 'bi card'?"

"Oh, being bisexual, it's such a fad. How can you like both? I mean, really, it's either one or the other for me."

Harry blinked. "You are _still_ a bigoted arsehole, you know that, Malfoy?"

"What? That's how I feel."

Harry turned on his side so he could look the blond directly in the eye. "You do realise that if I'm bi, that just means I get more sex than you, right?"

"What? How so?"

"I have both sides to play with. You only have half. Okay, probably less than that, considering you're gay…"

Draco frowned, indignant. "Well, that's just faulty logic, that is!"

"Really?"

"Yes! Because, well, not everyone, gay or straight, likes brunettes!"

Harry laughed. "Draco…that was the lamest comeback I've ever heard coming from you. And that's saying something. Besides...my hair is black, not brown."

"Oh pish posh. It's dark. It's in the same category."

"Oh, in that case, since you're hair is nearly white, I can call you an old geezer, then?"

Draco's mouth dropped open in shock, but before he could regain his mental feet and get started on his diatribe, there was a knock at the door.

Draco sent a glare at the door, and then at Harry. Standing up, he grabbed the edge of the sheet, yanking it out from under the duvet and Harry, who squawked, flailing his limbs so he wouldn't roll off the bed. Draco wrapped the sheet around his waist and pointed at Harry. "Don't you go anywhere, Potter. I've got some words for you." Then he turned on his heel, and stalked towards the door, yelling, "I'm coming, I'm coming!" as the knock came again.

Harry scrambled to get under the duvet as Draco swung the door open, revealing the cute hotel clerk from the other day. He blinked at Draco's state of dress, and blushed as he caught sight of Harry in the room behind the blond. Looking away, he muttered, "Um, this telegram came for you downstairs, sir."

"Telegram?" Draco asked, taking the proffered slip of paper.

"Yes. Um…if you could sign here, please," the clerk said, holding out a clipboard and biro that he had tucked under his arm.

Draco signed and handed back the clipboard, not seeming to care that there was dried come on his chest, or that the sheet he tied around his waist was slipping dangerously low. Harry grabbed his dirty glasses and Draco's lost shirt and started cleaning them off, just as Draco bid a rather inappropriate farewell to their messenger.

"Care to join us?" he asked.

The clerk gaped for a moment. "I-er-uh…"

"Well?"

"Draco, leave the boy alone."

Draco cocked his head at the clerk and shrugged. "That's bad news for you. Harry here is a real fireball in the bedroom."

"Draco!"

"Heh. Thanks," Draco said to the clerk, closing the door and walking back to the bed Harry was sitting in.

"I can't believe you."

"Believe, Potter, believe."

"Who's it from?"

Draco frowned, turning over the slip. "Well, it's just a telegram, so it's probably from…"

"The Ministry," the both said in unison.

Draco tore the telegram open, and Harry leaned closer to read it over his shoulder.

"Sonofabitch," Draco swore.

"What?"

"The Ministry has been monitoring James' flat for me. They're reporting magical activity. Apparation, a few hexes, and…unforgivables." Draco turned to Harry. "Did you…"

"What? No! I barely had a chance to grab a hold of my wand and get out of there before he came at me for the fourth time."

Draco nodded. "Well, then. Looks like fun-time is over. We need to get over there. Now." He started to get out of the bed.

"Fun-time?" Harry said, frowning.

Draco stopped and turned, moving fluidly down to Harry and pressing him back onto the bed, giving him a deep, soulful kiss. "I'd let you fuck me again…if we weren't about to blow this case wide open." Kissing him again, the blond got up and went to his side of the room, grabbing some clothes and putting them on.

"Don't you want to get clean first?" Harry asked, slowly getting out of the bed himself.

Draco glanced down at his chest as he put a sock on. "Toss me my wand, then."

Harry did, and watched Draco cast a quick cleaning charm on his body, before pointing his wand at Harry and performing the charm again.

"Hey!" Harry exclaimed, wiggling around at the odd sensation. "That spell's not generally used on humans, you know."

Draco shrugged. "It'll do in pinch. Come on, let's go."

He and Harry quickly dressed, Harry happy to find his wand in his pants pocket at the foot of the bed.

"Ready?" Harry asked.

"One more thing," Draco replied, and pulled Harry to him, kissing him breathless.

"Draco, I-"

Draco shook his head. "We're going to bring this motherfucker down, Harry."

Harry smiled, nodding. On the count of three, the hotel room was empty.

* * *

_1:17am_

They landed back in the alley next to the pawn shop, just where Draco had been hours before. Giving Harry's hand a reassuring squeeze, Draco padded down the alley to the side door.

"I think we should go through the shop," Harry whispered in Draco's ear. "This way will make too much noise, and we could be trapped. It's only a narrow staircase."

Draco nodded, and let Harry lead the way, following closely behind. They crouched down below the large bay windows. They were dark, but Draco wouldn't be surprised if someone was still in there, waiting.

Harry unlocked the door with a quick '_alohamora_', casting a quick disarming charm at the silent alarm system that was near the front counter. Draco followed him inside, closing the door with a soft click behind him.

In the dim light from the windows, he saw Harry nod towards the counter. "Staircase," he whispered, and Draco nodded for him to go ahead. They were just passing the front counter when a bright light turned on, and Harry and Draco were immediately on their guard, their wands pointed at Sameson James, who was leaning casually against the wall behind the cash register.

"You know," he drawled, "I think I really love magic. It can do all sorts of things. Like let you know when someone's Apparated just outside your house."

"Stupefy!" Draco yelled, and watched as James was pushed hard into the wall by his spell, and chuckled, shaking it off and standing straight again.

"Didn't Harry tell you? Your magic won't work on me."

Draco turned to Harry, who looked like he was beating himself up. "I'm sorry…I forgot…with all that happened…"

Draco's mouth turned grim, but he turned back to James. "I hardly doubt that whatever you have on you can counter a killing curse," he snarled.

"It's a charm, around his neck," Harry pointed out.

"And I hardly doubt," James replied, "that whatever you have can counter this," and he pulled out his Glock.

Harry took a hesitant step back, but Draco held his ground. "I heard you had one of those."

"Did you? Well, Harry is quite a talker. Does he talk during sex? Unfortunately, I wasn't able to find out, but he does make some delicious noises when my cock is near his bum…"

"Shut the fuck up!" Harry yelled, and wished to hell he could hex James' balls off.

"Where's your contact?" Draco fired, changing the subject.

"Oh, he's here. Biding his time…"

"Where's the artefact?" Draco fired again.

"Nowhere you'll ever get to."

"Patience, Draco. That's one virtue you never quite grasped hold of," said a new voice, coming from the staircase.

Harry and Draco's heads shot over to watch as a pair of well-shoed feet appeared, followed by tailored slacks, a fair clothed torso, and a familiar face.

"What the _fuck_?" Harry exclaimed, looking from this newcomer to James and back again.

Draco was also just as puzzled, but perhaps more horrified, because the man before him looked exactly like the man holding the gun; dark hair, dark eyes, pointed chin…

But his voice was fundamentally different. And Draco knew that voice better than any other in his life.

"Hello, son."

_Father?_

* * *

**A/N:** Please remember that the FULL and UNABRIDGED version can be found at my website! Check my profile page for the link! 

Thank you for reading! Please review!


End file.
